Nameless
by Spirit Speaker
Summary: A homeless woman is offered one night to get fed, cleaned up, and rested. One night was all she was going to take, one night or she risked the demons she was running from catching up to her. Risked innocents getting hurt. If she'd heard of Xavier's School for Gifted Youth before she wandered up the front drive, she would never have stepped foot in the state of New York.
1. Chapter 1

**This story has been on my mind and begging to be written for quite some time now. It's been at least a year since I wrote this first scene between Biology 2 and Aqueous Geochemistry. So, due to the longer chapters this story might have longer updates, but perhaps fewer chapters in the long run. **

**This story is slightly AU and I'm afraid you will have to figure some of it out as you go. The characters are mostly movieverse, since that is what I know best, but you will soon see that X2 and X3 haven't happened and Logan didn't leave. Things like that, since I didn't want to deal with angsty Scott nor a dead Professor X in this story. Others, yes. Not this one. **

**Many thanks to my beta Amodestpoet who has very impressive knowledge to all things Marvel and will be making sure I keep all the characters true. **

**Please, read and enjoy!**

"So… What's your name?" He asked, words gruff and clipped as he stared her down.

She hesitated, debating on whether to give him her real name, or a fake one. Either option could make a difference. _The_ difference.

"Emily." She decided.

Only time will tell if it was the right decision.

Nodding, he shook her hand. "Logan."

Her grasp was light and cool. Very 'touch and go', though her body language was not one of disgust or even open distrust. No, her body was calm or appeared to be. Her scent, however, was a different story. Her scent was tainted by an underlying fear.

Maybe she was afraid of what she could do, or because of whatever situation she was in. Logan had seen that often enough.

Maybe she was afraid of _them_ and what they could do. That too, he'd seen.

Storm would figure that out.

First though, Emily needed to see the professor.

When Emily had knocked on the mansion door, she wasn't sure what she'd been thinking. It sure wasn't the same thing she was thinking at the end of the drive, and was not even the same as when the gates opened without any pre-emptive action. On her part, that is.

There was a… impulse not her own that she felt inclined to follow. Not seeing an immediate danger or problem with doing such, she walked up the path to the main door. Or what seemed like a main door.

The woman had just risen her hand to knock when it opened, startling both her and the man on the other side.

The man on the other side was not comforting in appearance, to say the least. He looked like he'd be a 'man's man' with his flannel shirt and wife beater, disheveled hair, and unshaven face. Oh, and of course one shouldn't forget the cigar hanging loosely from his lips. This man looked like a 'what you see is what you get' type.

Whatever, wherever it was, Emily liked this place already.

He asked her name and held out his hand. He had a firm grip and warm palms. As he turned to lead her to the 'Professor' she caught a whiff of him. Old Spice. Definite man's man.

Around the corner, Emily and Logan ran into another man. This one was much less of a man's man. This man was what Emily would call a 'casual gentleman'. He took time to make himself presentable, complete with a clean face and fashionable clothes.

Emily may not have been bothered by him, except for the fact his eyes were covered by red glasses. Frowning, she shook "Scott's" hand as Logan grudgingly introduced them.

Jokingly, Scoot said "I hope Logan hasn't been too rude, he can be a little rough around to edges."

"Don't worry" she replied. "I prefer people who put their only foot forward, instead of their best."

Both men looked startled. Scott covered up his discomfort by suggesting the two head to the professor's office, while Scott himself went back to his class. It was then Emily realized where she was. A school.

She was surprised and comforted to find out the place was a school. It should not have been a shock, since the building was absolutely huge, albeit a little bit of an atypical style for a school. Given the size, she would not be fazed to find there were lower levels or a basement also.

And Emily would bet lots of money the "professor's" office possessed the best window view.

Logan quickly led her to the office of the man she was supposed to meet. Emily tried not to be too obvious when scoping out the building's rooms and halls as they passed them, but she had a feeling not much slipped by Logan. Finally, and all too soon, Logan opened a door and with a jerk of his chin ushered her inside.

"Hello Emily." The man seated behind the desk said. "Please, have a seat." With a grandfatherly smile, he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. She noticed he was seated in a wheel chair, and sure enough, the window behind him was quite large.

Settling into one, Emily noticed Logan moving to stand behind her as another person, a woman, walked in. _Lots of people here_, she thought. _Hope this isn't the wrong way to go._ Emily barely noted the woman's dark complexion and pale hair before she heard her name.

"Emily," the man in the wheelchair pulled her attention back to him. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier and I am the head of this school. Behind you stand Logan, whom you've met, and Ororo Monroe."

Emily turned her head to nod and smile at the woman standing off to the side.

"Welcome, Emily." Ororo said to her, smiling back.

"Now," Xavier began, "You have arrived at a school, as I am sure you have already discovered. This is a school for the gifted."

As he spoke, Emily sized him up. He lacked hair, but usually baldness was a personal preference not indicative of any distinct personality traits. He was clearly older, with more laugh lines than frown lines. The lines opened up already open eyes, leaving Emily without a reason to distrust him there. No, her only mark against him was the suit. Hard to trust a man in a suit.

"We are mutants." He explained, watching her reaction carefully.

Trying to not betray a reaction of any kind, Emily could not help but feel relief. Mutants. More likely to lie to protect themselves than to lie at all. Mutants are human and have their faults, but are better than anyone else.

She lifted her chin. "I'm afraid I'm only human, sir." She told him, testing the waters. Some mutants viewed themselves different, separate, superior.

Xavier leaned back at her statement, and Ororo shifted uncertainly beside her. She looked ready to speak, but once again it was the professor who addressed Emily.

"Are you certain of that, my dear?"

"Completely." She said, praying the lie of her answer to be no more perceivable to them as the air in front of their faces was visible.

Logan twitched behind her, and Emily barely contained the jerk of her tight shoulders, tension radiating off her as her mind came to the only conclusion available to her.

He knew.

_Damn._

"Well, that went great." Sarcasm laced Logan's voice as he turned back to the professor, away from the closing door.

Xavier chuckled. "I suppose not."

Logan snorted. "You would have gotten more information reading her." The lead into the obvious question "Why didn't you?" was clear.

"Revealing an invasion into her privacy is not a way to gain her trust." The professor told him. "As you might not know, women value security more than men do. Clearly she doesn't trust us." He paused, could feel the annoyance and offence rolling off the other man. "Logan, when you arrived here, you were not fearful. You trusted in your own abilities to get you out of this foreign place. I do not sense the same trust in her."

Logan nodded jerkily, and the professor sighed. The woman who had walked into his office sadly was not the woman Xavier had been expecting. It had been relatively easy to sense her walking down the road, even easier to apply suggestion and convince her to take the path to the front door. Finding out who she is? A much harder task, if he were to truly gain her trust.

"It's going to be fun finding information on her, when she won't even give you a last name." Logan said. Emily's flat out refusal to give the professor any personal information beyond her first name had been amusing to say the least. All she would admit to was being on the move without a place to stay. Of course the professor offered her a room, she took him up on his offer. For one night.

"Such is the price of patience." The professor responded, despite feeling much the same as Logan.

Logan grunted. "She doesn't have a bag."

"Correct. Your point is?"

He grunted again. "Not normal for a woman to not have a bag. 'Specially if she's on the move."

The professor merely replied "She will be provided with what she needs."

"You sure she even needs help? She seems pretty comfortable on her own."

By now, Xavier knew what Logan was getting at. "She wouldn't be here if she hadn't needed some sort of help. We merely have yet to discover what it is."

Logan nearly groaned, but realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with the professor. "What about her saying she's not a mutant? She got awfully jumpy right around then, and sure as heck didn't like me standing behind her anymore." Logan barely kept himself from sounding offended. Barely.

Raising a hand to his temple, Xavier had to admit to himself Logan was right. "She was comfortable enough with Storm, so we will just have to wait and see."

"And?"

"And I do not know. I believe she believes she's human. However I also do not believe what she believes. Until such time as is proven otherwise, I will accept what little she told us as the truth."

"So you're thinking this will be a long term deal?"

"I am hoping to convince her to stay with us longer." The professor admitted.

"You gonna tell her about the Xmen? She's too old to be a student here so you can't distract her with school work." Logan paused, debating whether or not to tell Xavier about how she checked out the mansion and his suspicions that she'd find the lower level before long.

"I'm sure we will think of something." Xavier said. "I want to give her a day to settle in, if she wants. Then I'll decide." He didn't say anything more.

Seeing he had no further reason to stay, Logan left Xavier's office. As soon as he did, the professor delicately set his head in his hands, fighting a headache which began to bloom ever since Emily left the room. While all the professor told Logan was true, he'd failed to tell the man one thing.

Xavier had tried to read the woman.

Following closely, Emily tried to keep from frowning. There were a lot of kids here. A lot. She wondered how they managed to house and feed them all. Class had let out as Emily was led to the room she'd be staying in for the night and students filled the halls as they hurried to their next class. Most ignored her, though a couple nodded at her and greeted "Ms. Monroe".

Apparently Ororo was a teacher here. Emily vaguely wondered what subject, but didn't dwell on the topic for long as the woman picked up her pace. "I'm sorry to rush, but my free period was last period and I have a class in three minutes."

"It's fine." Emily told her. "I understand."

The other woman flashed a quick and grateful smile before leading her up the stairs. A couple turns later, and Ororo finally opened a door. Emily couldn't help, but feel a little blown by the size of the place.

"Ms. Monroe, have any students ever gotten lost? This school is quite large." Emily said.

She smiled. "First, you don't have to call me Ms. Monroe, you aren't a student here. You can call me Ororo, or even Storm."

"Storm?" Emily asked, curious.

"I can control the weather, to an extent. Some call me a weather witch."

Understanding lit up Emily's face, and she nodded. "That's neat. So, since there was a first, I'm assuming there's a second?"

Storm grinned. "There's a reason we have a 'buddy system' for new students."

Emily laughed. "Makes sense." She said. Then Emily looked around the room. It was simply furnished with a bed, nightstand and lamp, and a dresser. There were two doors, most likely a closet and a bathroom. The room was not particularly large either. About the same size as an average hotel room. "This is very kind of the professor, to let me stay here for the night." She turned to Storm, who was back in the doorway. "I'm sure he really doesn't have the room to spare."

"There's always room for more, most of the students share rooms anyways. This just happens to be one of the few empty rooms we have in the teachers' wing." Storm told her.

"Oh." Emily said. "Do all the teachers live here?"

Nodding, Storm said "At this point in time, yes. It's easier than living off the school's campus." She gestured to her left. "My room is right down the hall, as are the other teachers." Then she hesitated before gently asking, "What do you need? You didn't arrive with a bag, but someone can bring you a spare change of clothes if you'd like to bathe. I'll even have what you are wearing washed."

Looking down at herself, Emily realized she hadn't cleaned the clothes she was in for a couple days, and as a result her outfit was looking rather well worn. The soil stains on her knees and backside didn't help any, either. Getting her clothes washed would be great, as would a spare change of clothes. As to the matter of not having a bag…

Emily looked back up at Storm. "If you don't mind, that would be great. Being clean would be amazing."

"I know how you feel. I'll have one of the others bring you what you need. I have to get to class." Storm disappeared from the doorway, only to pop her head back in. "Oh, are you hungry? Dinner is at six, but the kitchen is open if you would like something to eat."

"Sure," Emily said. "Anything is good. Point me in the right direction and I can fix something for myself."

"Nonsense. We have enough lazy bodies around here to do the work." And Storm disappeared again.

Emily waited a moment to see if she would reappear, but she didn't. Sitting down on the bed, Emily tried to wrap her head around this new development. She'd been here for a short time, yet she already felt comfortable.

That comfort bothered her because there was no denying to the fact there are too many people here and she had been seen by too many kids. It was too late to do anything though. Too late to do anything, but wonder if she'll regret this decision at a later date. It's only one night, one night with a comfortable bed and a clean bathroom. One night surrounded by too many people and then she'll be on her way in the morning.

She lay back on the bed, one arm above her head, the other laying lightly beside her. Emily thought about being back on the road in the morning, thought about where the next closest town was. _Maybe I'll pack a meal or two, before I go._

She never noticed falling asleep.

Jean shook her head from the open doorway. Since Jean had the time, Storm had asked her to bring their new guest a pair of the school's sweats. Kitty was coming up shortly with a light lunch.

So, arms laden with a couple pairs of sweats in differing sizes, Jean arrived at the room's open door to see said guest half sprawled out on the bed in the glory of unconsciousness. The woman had one arm flung behind her and both feet still planted on the floor. Taking in the state of her worn blouse and jeans, Jean realized that when Storm had said the woman was thin, she'd been under exaggerating. The woman was incredibly thin and toned, lacking in much of her body fat. The bags under her eyes gave away the lack of sleep from her travels and her hair was pulled back tight.

Jean decided to leave the change of clothes with the young woman, but not disturb her. She looked like she could use the rest and recuperation.

Stepping quietly, Jean carefully laid the clothing on the nightstand. Turning, Jean began to creep out of the room, when a sleepy voice spoke up behind her.

"Don't bother, I'm awake." Emily sat up slowly.

Jean winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Emily shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I needed to wake up anyways." She turned and saw the clothes sitting on the nightstand.

"There are a couple pairs in that stack. Storm wasn't sure what size you are, so I decided to just let you figure that out." Jean told her. "I'm Jean, by the way."

Emily picked up one of the sweatshirts on the top of the pile. Spread across the front of the shirt was a large X. Underneath in smaller print was "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters". Smirking, Emily refolded the shirt and turned to Jean. "Thank you."

Jean smiled also and then informed her, "There's also a small pouch between the pairs of sweats. It has just a few basic toiletries. The rest of what you need is in the bathroom." She gestured to one of the doors in the room. "Kitty, one of the girls, will be up soon with some lunch, that way you don't have to face the masses in the kitchen until you've had a chance to get settled in."

"I appreciate that very much. Thank you again."

Jean nodded. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask someone." At Emily's nod, Jean turned and left the room.

As soon as the red head was gone, Emily's shoulders drooped, her good demeanor gone. Exhaustion pricked at her, telling her she's been pushing it too hard these last few days. She needed to find better places to sleep. Emily sighed and attempted to run a hand through her hair, pulling out the tie she had it in, only to have her hand catch on one of the many snags.

Grabbing the bag Jean had left with toiletries, the brunette was relieved to find a comb and conditioner. Both would be well used tonight. As would the toothbrush and tooth paste. And the deodorant.

"Eh, hm" Someone coughed from the door way. Emily looked up to see an older teen standing there. "Excuse me, are you Emily?" The girl was holding a tray.

"Yes, I am." She waved the girl into the room. "You must be Kitty, right? Jean mentioned you'd be coming by."

"Yeah, I'm Kitty." The girl stepped into the room, and eased the tray onto the bed. "I haven't brought much, but dinner will be in a couple hours."

Looking over the contents of the tray, Emily told her "This is perfect. Really." And it was. On the tray was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, accompanied by an apple and a glass of milk.

When she was met with silence, Emily looked up. The girl was staring at her intensely, curiosity visibly burning behind her brown eyes. "Yes?" Emily asked warily.

"So," the girl started. "Are you like, a friend of Storm's or something?"

"Not really."

"Then you're a friend of Jean's?" The girl asked.

"No," Emily told her. "I'm just a guest of the professor's." She prayed that was the right thing to say.

It seemed to be. Kitty just frowned and said "Oh." She shrugged. "That makes sense, I guess."

She stood there awkwardly until Emily couldn't stand it anymore and decided to throw the girl a bone. "So you like going to school here?"

"Oh yeah." Kitty told her, face lighting up as she sat down on bed.

Emily pulled the tray towards herself and dug into the sandwich. She gestured with her hands to keep the girl talking. Part of her thought encouraging the conversation to be a poor idea, while the rest of her wondered at the harm.

Kitty started talking "Well, I'm into computer sciences, but a lot more than that goes on around here. Like, Mr. Summers teaches shop and math and stuff like that. Storm, or Ms. Monroe teaches sciences and like, biology. Logan does mainly defense, or subs here and there. And Piotr teaches art classes." Kitty paused to take a breath before launching further into the schools activities. "And of course, we like, always train. You know it's a bad idea to have untrained mutants running around, that's what really gives us the bad name, that and the Brotherhood." She rolled her eyes for effect. "Anyways, some of these kids around here really need the help and the professor, I don't know, but he always just seems to know what to do or to say."

Kitty continued talking, mainly about other students and such, so Emily didn't pay too close attention. The girl was talkative, but without loose lips. A smart girl. Emily quickly finished her sandwich and soon all she had left was her apple.

Suddenly Kitty squeaked. "Oh my goodness, I've been here too long. Storm needed me to do some other things, and here I am chatting away." She jumped up and grabbed the now empty tray and dishes. "I'll um, see you tonight at dinner? Then you'll meet some of the others I told you about."

The brunette still seated on the bed barely got a chance to nod her head before the younger of the two bounced out of the room, tray in her hands.

Emily shut the door after Kitty left, collected what Jean left for her, and checked the time. She had just enough time to get cleaned up before dinner. Hopefully, they wouldn't mind her casual state of dress.

The unfortunate thing about showers though, is there isn't enough to do to take up the entirety of thought. Shampooing one's hair isn't exactly a rocket science. The result was as Emily's tension began to ebb under the hot water, her mind also began to wander.

She chewed her lip. Dinner with the masses was a slightly foreboding thought. She could care less about her appearance, and was grateful for the change of clothes. She was even more grateful for the small comforts provided by living under a roof. The only problem was that she didn't want to make any bigger waves than she already had. With Kitty's highly friendly attitude, Emily wouldn't be surprised if she was introduced to the majority of the student body tonight.

Emily thought back to how she arrived here, at the school. She thought of meeting the professor… and she thought of how he knew her name.

Emily frowned. He'd never asked her name. Xavier just called her Emily from the moment she walked into his office. No one asked why she was there either. Never a "Hey who are you?" or even a "Haven't seen you before, you new to town?" At least, not until Kitty asked. A student that's likely often kept out of the loop, yet none of the faculty asked. Why?

Sure, she'd been asked about how she was traveling and about where she was going. Emily had gotten the feeling that he was willing to offer her a ride, but she wasn't ready to buy into it. She wasn't even sure why she accepted his offer of a one night stay.

As she continued to evaluate the situation, Emily realized that the events starting a mere two hours earlier had never stood out as strange to her. First the impulse to walk up the path, then the willingness to stay here, in a _school_ of all places; none of it had seemed strange at the time. Not one bit.

This realization struck her cold and she began to shake. A thousand thoughts and fears began to flood her mind. There were too many uncertainties to the situation, too many unknown variables. The hot water no longer felt even slightly warm as she quickly rinsed off. She turned the water off and dressed as fast as she could, before she sat herself down on the bed.

Dinner no longer seemed even remotely appealing.

* * *

A/N: So, who is "Emily"?

Please, read and review!

- Spirit


	2. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to my beta Amodestpoet, for looking over this story. I'm going to try to update every week, which will be interesting since I'll be trying to update "Skies on Fire" the same. And start a third fic. **

**I'm insane. **

**And so, poor, poor Emily is suffering because of it, though my lovely readers may not see that for a few chapters yet. **

**With that said, please read and enjoy!**

Finally dressed in blessedly clean clothes, Emily sat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were tipped forward slightly and the mass of her dark and wet hair hung over her right shoulder. The smooth and unhindered path of the comb through her hair almost made the brunette moan.

Her hair hadn't been clean or untangled in a while. Long enough that she wasn't going to take this moment of combing the brown locks for granted. The repetition was lulling her into an empty minded fog.

A day, a night in a warm bed without fear of being joined by a creepy-crawly, or being disturbed by a wild animal, or worse a homeless individual, was going to do her a lot of good.

She hoped.

Just in case the night didn't turn out the way she wanted it to, Emily allowed herself to set the comb down and curl up on one side on the comforter; her hair splayed out on the pillow behind her head.

Her eyes shut, and she was gone.

It was the quiet tapping on the door hours later that woke her.

Sitting upright, she swallowed hard against the trepidation that brewed in her abdomen.

The tapping continued and a quiet voice accompanied it. "Emily? Are you awake?" Jean asked. "It's time for dinner."

Emily stood and said "One moment." She approached the door, fully intending to open it, but as soon as her fingers touched the doorknob Emily began to wonder if she was doing the right thing. Too many voices laughed and giggled not so far away. Faint to anyone else's ears, but Emily's. To her, even the smallest chuckle nagged at her.

"Emily?" Jean called again, breaking the thin brunette out of her thoughts.

"I'm here." She said, and finally decided to just open the door. It was too late to do anything else now.

The tall redhead smiled at her when Emily's face finally came into view. "Hey. Did you sleep?"

"Some." She said, returning Jeans soft smile with an equally soft one of her own. "Though I may have gotten the sheets wet from my hair." She touched the still damp strands.

Jean's smiled grew. "Oh don't worry about that. The student's beds have seen worse, I'm sure."

"Ah, yeah I don't envy whoever has to clean those."

Chuckling, Jean gestured down the hall. "Come. I'm sure you're hungry."

Emily nodded. "A little bit. That meal earlier though is lasting me."

"How often do you usually eat?" Jean asked, frowning. It was something that hadn't fully been taken into account earlier.

"Once a day, sometimes. If I can, I try to save whatever I find and eat off it over the day. It's not always possible though." Emily told her.

"But nothing big, right? For how long has it been this way?"

Emily saw where she was going with this. "You don't need to worry, I'm not going to be sick or hurt myself if I eat more. I know better than to overdo it, so you can trust me when I say I haven't and I won't." She glanced at the woman walking next to her. "Are you a nurse or something?"

"Or something." Jean responded. "I have limited medical knowledge or experience, but I do know the consequences of eating too much after long periods of eating little."

Smiling, Emily tried to reassure her. "You don't need to worry." She bit the inside of her cheek. "Would- Would it be possible for me to take a few supplies with me tomorrow? I don't want to overstep my bounds, but even a little bit of food would go a long way."

Expression gentle, Jean said "Of course."

The women arrived at their destination, and Emily tried to hold back the gasp of dismay when Kitty approached her with another individual.

"Emily this is Piotr. He's –"

"The art teacher. I remember." Emily interrupted Kitty to hold her hand out.

The young man grasped her hand firmly, the muscles of his arm visibly flexing with the movement. Looking into his face, Emily decided that this one was still being molded. His framework was firmly laid, but the clay of his personality was still being altered to fit. And that was okay.

"Hello, you are the professor's friend?" He asked.

Emily just smiled. Tomorrow, she'd be gone and the others could explain her brief presence however they desired. She wondered what Logan would say. He seemed the type to ignore the question in general.

Over all, dinner was not as bad as it could be. Kitty sat on one side of her, Storm on the other, and in general the younger kids stayed away from them. If they did happen by it was because they needed to speak to one of the other two women. Emily tried to avoid making the kids uncomfortable by smiling warmly at them.

One young boy blushed after she smiled at him and refused to look her in the eye, preferring to only finish speaking with Storm before scuttling away.

"That was Jeremy. He's shy." Storm explained when Emily gave her a questioning look.

"Ah." Emily nodded in understanding. "I was wondering if I did something wrong."

Kitty smiled at her. "Have you worked with kids before?"

She shook her head. "Not at all." Emily glanced at the younger woman. "Is it that obvious?"

Kitty shrugged. "Not really."

"Which means yes." Emily sighed. She doubted she'd ever have the opportunity to work with children. Little ones of her own were definitely out of the picture, not with things being the way they were. "Oh well." She said.

Frowning, Kitty swallowed her bite before asking "Do you want to work with kids?"

"Not really."

"Which means yes." She chuckled at Emily's dry look. "How long are you staying?"

"Just the night." Both Storm and Emily responded.

Sensing she was missing something, Kitty just nodded. "Ok."

When Logan sat down with a grunt in greeting, shortly followed by an exasperated Scott, Emily allowed the subsequent conversation to take place without her. Leaning back in her seat, she was able to reduce her presence at the table to the extent that Kitty and Storm spoke over her with ease. Not once did she try to include herself in the conversation or the general atmosphere of camaraderie at the table.

Emily tried to make as small of ripples as possible. She didn't want to be memorable when she left here.

Without looking at her too much, Logan noticed the way she kept herself out of the conversation. Emily wasn't rude, but was clearly keeping herself unattached and others from becoming attached to her. He recognized the behavior as that of someone who was running and planning to take off at first light.

It didn't surprise him that when the meal was finished and dishes collected for the students on dish duty, Emily declined the offer of any evening activity and returned to her room. Her smile was polite, but firm, despite Kitty's protests.

He overheard Storm ask "What time will you be leaving in the morning?"

"Early. Depends on what time I get up." Emily responded.

"Well, there is no set time for breakfast, so you can help yourself in the morning and Jean already told you, you can help yourself to whatever you need." She briefly touched the other woman's shoulder as the two walked away from Logan, presumably back to Emily's room. "If you want to avoid the morning rush, you can sleep in a little and leave during the first period."

Logan snorted to himself as Emily said "Maybe. Might be a good idea." Storm had gone and given the girl a reason to be up and gone even earlier. Come daylight, he wouldn't be surprised if all trace of her was gone.

Brilliant sunlight hit Emily's face when she rolled over. Surprised, her dark eyes opened to take in a steadily rising sun. Somehow, her body clock was off. Truly, it felt as if the sky should still be dark. She woke up at the wrong time.

Something that hadn't happened for a long time. Falling asleep on accident the day before had been just as bad. _A mistake like that can get you killed._

Emily groaned when she realized the sounds she was hearing from downstairs were the students getting ready to start the day. It looked like she really would be leaving once the classes started.

She decided to take the time to clean up. It was really too soon for another shower to be effective, but the opportunity to feel hot water raining against her skin and scrubbing her head clean was too good to pass up. Who knew when she going to experience another hot shower? Almost made her want to stay. Almost.

Once her hair was combed and sleek once again, Emily stepped out of her room to find her way down to the kitchen.

Stepping through the doorway, she sent out a careful "Morning" to alert Logan of her presence.

He nodded to her, and then jerked a thumb at the fridge. "Milk and juice are in there. All the hot stuff got eaten, so unless you want to cook, cereal is your best bet."

Emily shrugged. "Cereal sounds good to me. Especially not-stale cereal." She said with a smirk.

The side of his mouth quirked and he nodded to her. He remembered days like that. Made him wonder what made her so keen on leaving. He watched her pour her breakfast and settle down at the counter.

"Professor wants to see you before you leave."

Emily paused mid-chew. She shrugged. "Ok." It made sense, she supposed. Either way, his house means his rules. With a moderate pace, she finished off her quick meal and headed up to the professor's office.

He ushered her in quickly and as he spoke, she patiently waited for him to get to the point of why he wanted to see her.

When he finally did though, it was not what Emily expected. She left his office twenty minutes later with much to think about.

**XMENXMEN**

While Emily was thinking, several of the Xmen gathered in Xavier's office.

"She doesn't want to be here, Chuck." Logan's voice was dry, the flat tone indicating he felt he was pointing out the obvious.

The professor raised his eyebrows. "I beg to differ, Logan. Emily merely doesn't know what to do while here, she doesn't have a purpose. I'm giving her that."

Jean spoke "I'm inclined to agree with Logan, Professor. Also, 'housekeeper' for a bunch of kids isn't going to be an easy task."

"I am sure she is up to the task." He attempted to reassure her.

This time, Scott voiced an opinion. "I hate to say it, Professor, but I have doubts about her too. Hiding in her room doesn't bode well."

And the woman really had hidden in her room. The group briefly fell silent.

"Kitty spoke with Emily." Storm said just before the professor began to respond. Her fellow teachers turned to her, waited for her to continue.

When she didn't, Logan prompted her. "Yeah, and?"

The white haired woman sighed. "From what I understood, the conversation – while being mostly one sided – was quite easy. Kitty was surprised to find Emily was human, and knew the students here are mutants. I am afraid our students are coming to expect a certain behavior from humans. It would be good for the children to have a human they can trust around."

"That is precisely why-"

"Professor, I understand you reasoning for wanting a human working here," Storm interrupted. "However, Emily's arrival here has been too strange for me to believe she can be that person we need." Storm paused for a moment, wanting to gauge the man's reaction against what she would next be saying.

At the professor's look, she continued. "Charles, you cannot tell me that her arrival here wasn't odd." With a gesture towards the door, her voice delicately rose. "She walked up to the front door and you have opened our school to her, despite the fact she has not told us who she is or where she has come from. Since you refuse to read her, we don't know if she is a criminal or even a government plant."

Rubbing his chin, Xavier looked lost. For whatever the reason, Storm's very good points had not occurred to him. "It's too late for me to rescind my offer now."

With a roll of his eyes, Logan walked out.

**XMENXMEN**

With two hesitant, barely there steps on the gravel pathway, Emily had made her decision. The small stones crunched under her more confident steps. It was the only sound she made.

Being relatively early, none of the students were outside. The first period of class had already started, all the stragglers rounded up for the school day.

So there was nothing to distract her on her walk to the gate. A gate that opened as she approached, much to her relief. Climbing it would not have been fun. Doable, but a pain nonetheless.

She stepped through the opening without a pause in her stride.

"I suppose you're just going for a walk?"

Emily stumbled, froze. Her heart pounded as panic flooded her limbs in an instinctive response to danger. Her eyes darted around.

Logan smirked at her, one eyebrow raised.

The brunette cursed herself for underestimating her surroundings. She should have looked, she should have listened, she should have _known_. _Stupid mistakes get you killed._

Gritting her teeth, Emily pushed herself to keep moving forward. "It's a nice day out," she responded, voice even. "Why wouldn't I want to go for a walk?"

He shrugged. "Could have stayed inside the gate. The property is definitely large enough."

"It is." She agreed.

Eyeing her, Logan briefly wished Storm were there instead of him. All he wanted was some fresh air when he'd spotted her walking. No, walking wasn't quite what she was doing.

"There's a good thing going here." He told her. He wondered where this defensiveness was coming from.

Emily glanced at him in surprise. "I know that." By this time Emily's prior stride was back with Logan keeping pace beside her. Together, they had just started to round a corner that put the mansion out of sight.

"Do you?" He asked.

Her shoulders tensed, but when Emily responded her tone was sly. "Why, Logan, I'm just going for a walk." She wondered what he was getting at.

"Is that what you are doing?" At her nod, he snorted. "Looks like you're running to me." Without waiting for a response, he continued. "You got yourself a couple of meals, a hot shower, a comfortable bed for the night, and even a change of clothes.' He gestured to the X printed on the material over the center of her chest. "I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd have at least packed some supplies. Don't want to have to deal with the weight of an extra change of clothes?"

At his final words, Emily stopped and shifted her hips so that she was facing him. Frowning, she tried to figure out where this near attack was coming from.

"You don't want me here." She finally stated. When he huffed, she held up a hand to keep him silent. "No, now listen. I'm not saying you should. I'm just wondering why you are so defensive." She sighed and looked at him. Really looked at him.

He growled at her. Logan didn't know what he was doing any more than she knew what he was doing.

Finally, it hit Emily. She realized Logan thought she was rejecting them, this group of people he cared about. She was certain if it was just him she was rejecting, he'd have let her walk out of that gate without saying a word. But instead, when it was what he valued that she was rejecting, he felt the need to confront her. To come so close to calling her a coward or something similar.

Offense began to brew low in her chest, but she beat it back. Instead of snapping at him, she gave him a disgruntled look.

As he started to speak again, Emily ignored him to turn around and trudge into the woods behind her.

Logan ground his teeth in annoyance and nearly followed after her. He watched as she carefully picked her way through the brambles and broken branches until she came to a stop in front of a rather large tree.

About six feet off the ground a hole had rotted it's way through the bark and the meat of the tree, leaving what Logan was sure to be a decent sized home for any animal that lived there.

Bracing herself against the tree, Emily leaned up to reach a hand into the hole. Her fingers just barely brushed a rough scrap of fabric. Bouncing up onto her toes, she gave herself just enough leverage to wrap her hand around the strap and haul the pack up and out of its hiding spot.

Watching her, Logan snorted. So she really did have a bag. Maybe she really was on the run or just plain homeless. Whatever the case, he definitely knew she was leaving now. Emily would never have shown him her hiding spot if she was planning on returning.

Logan was also starting to see what the professor had meant about security. She clearly didn't trust them when she walked up this drive. But if that were the case, why walk up the drive in the first place? Was it totally the professor?

The pack itself seemed to be nothing special. It was worn and well-used. The seams showed in some places, despite it not being full. In fact, as far as Logan could tell, the pack wasn't even half-empty. So why didn't she bring any food or extra supplies with her? Surely it couldn't have hurt. She could have even asked for a new pack if she wanted.

Holding the pack tightly to her, Emily carefully worked her way back to Logan. Once she reached the road, she slung the pack over one shoulder and glanced up at Logan. She noticed his inspection of her bag and accompanying scowl. Annoyance and apprehension hit her hard, but Emily didn't let it surface, didn't let it show. Really, he could think what he wanted. As long as he let her be, Emily could care less what Logan's opinion of her and her belongings was.

Without a word she rotated her hips to face away from him and head back up the road.

Logan frowned. "Emily!" He barked.

She didn't turn.

He snorted and shook his head before he turned around and headed back to the mansion.

Emily heard his undignified sound as he strode away in the opposite direction. She was relieved that she wouldn't have to keep dealing with him. She wanted to wait as long as possible before she started cutting through the woods again. That kind of trekking was hard on her clothes and used up more of her energy.

The drive wasn't much longer and she was on the main road very shortly. Her feet gently curled in rolling steps as she walked, to reduce the soreness that would develop from walking with a heavy heel. There was little noise beyond the breeze in her ear and when she reached a curve in the road, Emily felt herself relax a little bit. Staying in that place - that _school_ - even for just a night had been a bad idea. She lifted her foot-

_If you take another step, you will die. _

-and froze.

Her heart began to pound.

_Go back and you will live. _

The voice in her head was distinctly male and painfully familiar. Her gut twisted as her breath came in short gasps. "Simon?" She asked. "Simon, what are you doing?"

She pulled her foot back and turned to scan her surroundings. There was no use though. Even if he was in the area, she wouldn't be able to see him. Emily would never find him if he didn't want to be found. How could he be here, though? The last time she saw him, she was certain he had been-

She put her hands to her forehead and tried to keep from shaking. Whether or not it was Simon contacting her, Emily felt certain that she was being watched. And who ever was watching her wanted her to stay with Xavier.

Turning back to face the way she had come, Emily began to run.

When she reached the property of the school, she surprisingly caught up to Logan.

He stopped walking and stared at her in surprise. Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he stated, "Town's that way."

A humorless smile plucked at the corner of her lips. "I know." She replied. Emily didn't stop moving, even when she glanced back to ask the scowling man, "You coming?"

Logan followed her. He'd have felt like he was played for a fool, if it weren't for the panic that was rolling off of her. She'd run until she'd reached his side and then started walking again. Something had startled her, driven her into returning back to the mansion.

As he followed her, Logan kept an eye on his surroundings. There was no sight, no sound, no scent out of place. Nothing, but a fast walking and too thin brunette. With a low growl the man followed her to the front steps of the mansion.

Once there, the two went their separate ways. Logan to who knew where, and Emily back to her room to collect the things she'd been lent the night before. She'd left them in favor of throwing anyone who would search for her off her scent. After all, why would she leave the grounds if the things she'd been given (and used) were still there? She'd even left her original change of clothes.

When everything was in her bag, she went back to the professor's office, as requested when he spoke with her earlier. Ironically, he'd wanted her to let him know what she'd decided, instead of just taking off. She'd agreed, knowing full well she wasn't going to do it. Oh how quickly that had changed.

She delicately knocked and heard him call her in. Opening the door, she was surprised to find most of the older faculty present.

"Oh, sorry. I don't mean to bother you." Her embarrassment was quickly beaten back by the mounting tension in the room. The tension had been present when she opened the door, but now it seemed to increase the longer she stood there in the doorway with her bag slung over one shoulder.

The professor refuted her statement. "You aren't. I assume you've made your decision." He looked at her expectantly.

Glancing at the stoic faces around her, Emily nodded. "I'll stay." She briefly wondered if it was such a great idea, even with the direct threat against her. Judging by the looks of the faculty around her, she wasn't exactly welcome. Not the night before and not now.

The Professor's face lit up with surprise. Then he smiled warmly. "Good." He said. "Storm here will show you to your new room, as we discussed earlier."

Emily nodded and followed Storm out. She wasn't sure if the professor had more to say or not, but took Storm's brisk stride out as an indication that he didn't.

The change of rooms was why Emily had packed all her things earlier. To make her new job easier, she was being moved to a room on the first floor nearer to the utilities and kitchen. Emily briefly contemplated the fact that she was going to become a glorified housemaid… of a sort. The details had yet to be hashed out, but her understanding was that she'd be there to act as a supplement to the chore duties the students were already on.

After all, every parent knows that a child always misses something when cleaning.

Emily's smile was a little rueful. She never thought knowing how to clean would ever have come in handy. Not in this sense. It was always a chore, a duty, a punishment. A double punishment if not done right. It was never a job. Always a necessity for neatness and organization, and of course for sanitary needs. It was never a… whatever this is. Not an escape. A cover?

She sighed when she and Storm finally reached the room. With small smiles, the women parted ways and Emily familiarized herself with her new living space. It was smaller than the other room, but not much. Sitting down on the bed, Emily wondered what in the world she was doing. The brunette should be twenty miles away from there by now, even if she were only traveling on foot. She was staying with a telepath, a potentially very powerful one, with little to no protection. Heck, he probably knew all her secrets already, knew everything there was to know about her.

All these innocents around her, she should leave. All these children, she most definitely was committing a crime by remaining in the same building. All these _students_, with a telepath who probably knew everything.

Her heart stuttered again. Students. Telepath. _Students_. She briefly wondered, is this all a game? A test?

_Simon, what are you doing? _

There was no reply.

Instead an odd, foreign thought crossed her mind followed by a familiar and often elusive sense of calm. The thought was tempting and so tentative in nature that her mind latched onto it with an aggression that surprised even her. Maybe, just maybe, the telepath didn't know anything. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the perfect place to lay low.

Maybe, just maybe, this would be a good thing.

Maybe, just maybe, someone was looking out for her.

Heaven help her if it wasn't true.

* * *

A/N: So, what do you all think? Is she going to stay? Should she stay?

Thank you so much to those who read and reviewed the first chapter! You all are amazing, special thanks to **ReflectedNightmare, Amodestpoet, MangaMagic, **and **krikalano**

Thank you to all who read and decided to follow and/or favorite this story.

-Spirit Speaker


	3. Chapter 3

**So how terrible is it that I haven't yet seen "Wolverine"? I think it's pretty terrible. I just haven't found anybody to go with! Gah! I might have to go by myself. Maybe for the matinee so it'll be less embarrassing. **

**Anyways, here is the next chapter! I wasn't going to post this until I had another chapter written, but I decided it's been too long since I last posted so I might as well. You can blame my last minute trip to San Diego for that (I went paragliding! Ah!). **

**So, please, read and enjoy!**

The first day on the job wasn't what she expected.

Since the professor wasn't sure what he wanted Emily to do yet, she was given a set amount of freedom. Mostly, she wasn't allowed to discipline the students, instead Emily was to report any misbehavior to one of the senior faculty.

This made sense to Emily, and she had absolutely no objections to the rule.

So, for her first day as the new 'housekeeper', Emily oversaw the laundry duty. Apparently Scott was the one who normally had the job, and while he didn't seem to want to, he did eventually leave her alone with the students to fully utilize the extra time now at his disposal. He left the room with a permanent grimace.

As he left she turned to look at the kids with a true a grin as she could muster. She must have fallen short because only one smiled back.

"Alright guys, I'm Emily."

The first day went pretty well.

XMENXMENXMEN

"No, Ricky. I already told you no powers in the laundry room."

"What? But why?" The young man protested.

Emily stood akimbo, face stern in response to the eleven-year-old's pouting. Three weeks had passed since the phantom warning that led her to accept the professor's offer. The first week, she'd learned just how much these kids relied on their powers and their _looks_ to get out of trouble. She fell for the puppy dog eyes _once_ and that was all it took. _Once bitten, twice shy_.

She firmly explained her reasons, "Because the last time I let you use your abilities, you made a bigger mess and then didn't clean it up! I am tired of more work being made when there is more than enough to get done." Her tone brooked no argument.

Ricky just sighed. He knew well enough not to continue arguing with her. The sight of his best friend being dragged to the professor's office, literally by his ear, was branded into his brain.

"Yes, ma'am," he told her as he spun to return to his task, this time without using his abilities.

The expression on the brunette's face softened. Emily placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, turned him to look back at her. "Hey, get some more practice with your teachers, and we'll talk, ok?"

The delighted grin that spread across his face made Emily smile.

"Okay!" He nodded vigorously.

Shaking her head and still smiling, Emily left the laundry room in the hands of one of the older students. An hour before lunch meant she was heading for the kitchen.

When she arrived, her set up crew was already working to get lunch prepared. It meant pulling out the appropriate number of dishes, prepping the food, and making sure the tables in the cafetorium were clean. Then, during lunch they would be the ones serving.

The soft smile still present, Emily jumped into the work of getting the lunch ready. The work was easy, consistent, and something she knew.

Just before it was time for the kids to eat, and after her helpers had left the kitchen, Emily smirked at the pan she was cleaning.

"Still a stalker? Thought that got a couple weeks ago."

Logan grunted as he narrowed his eyes at her. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching as she worked. The pan in her hands was efficiently scrubbed clean before set aside to air dry. The way she moved about the kitchen, one could have thought she was home. One could also think she trusted him, since she never once looked up or acknowledged his presence further than when she initially spoke.

Logan knew better though. She'd gotten real good at knowing when he was there, real quick, but that didn't mean she could hide everything from him. The affection for the kids was honest enough, but something else was keeping her from bolting out that door. She was terrified to. Whether that was keeping her at the mansion or driving her away, Logan couldn't be sure. It didn't help his nerves that the professor still couldn't read her.

After watching her for several minutes he finally grumbled some excuse and walked away.

He heard her sigh of relief from down the hall.

XMENXMENXMEN

Emily couldn't help but shake her head as the man walked away. Her expression didn't change though, despite now being alone in the kitchen. She just kept cleaning the kitchen. There would be more work to be done after lunch, but that would mostly be resting on the shoulders of the cleanup crew. After lunch was when Emily ate her lunch and supervised at the same time.

She could leave the kitchen mess for the cleanup crew, but it didn't seem fair to her. Also, it gave her an excuse to avoid the mob of students and teachers as they all migrated to the cafetorium. Staying behind to clean the kitchen was certainly easier than trying to make conversation – or avoid it, as she was more likely to do.

A quiet shuffling by the door caused Emily to look up. She caught sight of the girl and smiled softly.

"Hey Rogue." She set down the dish in her hands. "Do you need something?"

The girl shifted her weight for a moment and fingered the edge of the full plate in her hands. "May I sit in here with you?"

Surprised, Emily fumbled with her words for a moment. "Don't you want to sit with the other kids?"

"Not feeling up to the crowd today," Rogue replied, shrugging.

"Well, you are welcome to sit at the counter if you want. I'm just cleaning up some before I eat, so I don't know how good of company I'll be."

Shrugging again, Rogue told her, "Doesn't matter. Still quieter in here." She set her plate on the counter and settled down on one of the stools.

Silence reigned for a few moments longer.

"Do you mind if I play some music?" Emily asked, gesturing to the radio sitting on the counter next to her.

Rogue shook her head.

Emily gave her a small smile and turned on the radio. She flicked through a few stations until she settled on a one with minimal static. The music gently filled the mostly quiet kitchen and soon, Emily was humming along.

Rogue was surprised. "You playing this because of my accent?"

Emily chuckled. "No, I just didn't think you would mind because of your accent."

"You listen to country?" Rogue asked, eyebrows raised.

The older woman shrugged. "Can't judge a book by its cover, now can you?" Emily asked, tone gently chiding.

Smirking, the younger woman responded, "I guess not."

The silence that fell between them was comfortable, but it didn't last long.

"So, some of the kids have been asking about you," Rogue stated as nonchalantly as she could.

The effect was lost on Emily as she merely raised an eyebrow at the girl. "Oh yeah?"

"Just a bit," Rogue glanced up at her. "And, ok, not just the kids. I'm curious too."

"Oh really? I couldn't tell at all." Emily kept most of the snark from her voice.

Rogue blushed. "So are you a friend of the professor's or not?"

Emily was surprised. "Well, you cut right to the chase, don't you?"

"Why bother beating around the bush if I'm still going to ask anyways?"

Emily couldn't help it; she laughed. Just a short bark of laughter, but it was an honest one. "Ok, girl. You got me. You asked if I'm a friend of the professor's? Not exactly, though I was originally here as his guest."

"Before he asked you to be the housekeeper, right?" Rogue asked. She was interested in finally learning more about this strange woman who randomly appeared at the mansion one day.

Nodding, Emily added, "In exchange for room and board." She suddenly looked a little sheepish. "And some extra changes of clothes."

Rogue accepted the information and didn't ask another question for a little while.

Emily knew better than to think that the girl was done asking though. The older woman knew the girl was still curious, but uncertainty practically rolled off her. Rogue had a question to ask or a bit of information she wanted to know, but probably didn't know how to ask. Her hesitation gave Emily the time she needed to guess what the question was going to be and prepare her answer for it.

Twirling the tines of her fork on the plate, Rogue finally stated, "There's a rumor that you were homeless before you came here."

Emily took the time to finish rinsing the dish in her hands before loading it in the dishwasher. She cleared her throat before carefully replying, "I was… _very_ down on my luck. Professor Xavier has been incredibly kind to me."

"You say that like it's a surprise." Rogue's voice was soft and knowing.

Meeting her gaze, Emily caught the expression on the younger woman's face, perfectly framed by two shockingly white streaks. Emily briefly wondered if they were part of the girl's mutation. The brunette's next words were heavy. "Humans don't just hate mutants. They hate themselves too." She lifted the sleeve of her shirt to expose the recent scar cutting across one shoulder. "A man threw a bottle at me, just because I was standing at the side of the road. Called me a name I didn't hear because the bottle broke on the brick wall behind me." She sighed. "A shard of glass found its way into my shoulder."

The girl sitting on the opposite side of the counter made a soft noise in the back of her throat. It was a grunt of contemplation. "You've heard of Magneto, right?"

Emily nodded.

Rogue gestured to the two streaks framing her face. "He did this. He hates humans. Considers them weak, just another breed of animals. A lot of mutants agree and hate the mutants who disagree." Her voice faltered and she shrugged, looking away as if avoiding a painful subject.

"You know why that is?" Emily asked.

Rogue frowned at her, shook her head 'no'.

"Because most of us are like the rest of us."

"What does that mean?" The phrase made no sense to her.

Emily started scrubbing down the counters. "Think about it. Human hate mutants. Humans hate humans. Then there's mutants. Mutants hate humans, mutants hate mutants." A smirk crossed Emily's lips. "Then, of course, there are those mutants who love humans. Mutants who love mutants. Humans who love humans. And, yes, humans who love mutants." Turning her back on Rogue, Emily continued speaking. "Not too long ago this country had a major civil rights movement. Do you know the four significant parties involved?"

"Four? Weren't there only two?" Rogues asked.

"No there were four. There was MLK Jr. who believed in fighting back with peace. There was Malcolm X and his Black Panthers, who wanted to take from the whites by force."

Rogue thought she was getting it. All accept for one part. "But then there were only three groups. MLK, the Black Panthers, and the whites."

Crossing her arms across her chest, Emily turned to respond, leaning back against the countertop as she did so. "Why are you lumping all the 'whites' into one group? Do you honestly believe that _all_ of them were against equal rights?"

Speechless for a moment, Rogue thought about all that Emily had said. She thought about the similarities between the past Civil Rights movement and the current situation. "Most of us are like the rest of us. I think I get it."

This time when Emily smiled, it felt real. The sides of her eyes crinkled and her eyes sparkled some. It didn't last long, but Rogue still saw it in time to give a small smile of her own in return.

Storm, who'd been standing just outside the kitchen doorway, also smiled. When she'd heard the conversation occurring between Rogue and the new housekeeper, she'd paused in order to hear what was being spoken about. While the right word could do words for a student, the wrong word could do just as much bad. Emily did her job well, despite having never been employed to clean before as she admitted to Storm one evening. Yet, even after living in the mansion for three weeks, she was still an unknown.

The woman keeps to herself too much, Ororo decided then and there. She'd been letting the woman have her own space, but the woman had to be convinced in order to spend any time outside of her room when the chores were done. That needed to change.

Nodding to herself, the weather witch turned and left the kitchen doorway without ever making her presence known. As she left, she passed a group of students heading for the kitchens: the cleanup crew.

Lunch was wrapping up.

XMENXMENXMEN

Dinner was always an interesting affair, Emily found. The kids were rowdier since it was the end of the day and they were looking forward to their free time before bed.

Emily couldn't help but agree with them. Dinner was the last meal of the day and the last thing she had to supervise. She had the evening, save for any emergencies. Usually, she spent evenings in her room, curled up on the bed with a book. Every once in awhile, she'd walk around a little, just to get rid of the restlessness that plagued her. Sometimes it worked, other times… she went to bed awake.

"Miss Emily, its movie night. You going to join us?" Kitty asked, looking expectant.

Wrinkling her nose, Emily considered it. "I don't know. I wasn't a fan of the last movie you older kids got a hold of."

Kitty winced. "Yeah, 'The Box' was a weird one. I really wasn't expecting that kind of ending. But, come one, what are the odds of that happening two movie nights in a row?"

"I might sit in for a little while," Emily told her with a shrug. She really didn't want to commit to it.

It was then Ororo joined them. "Oh please, you spend far too much time in your room. As least join us for a movie."

Caught off guard by the dark-skinned woman's sudden gentleness, Emily just nodded. Truth be told, Ororo had been very wary of her since the beginning and Emily just tried to stay out of the woman's way. The fewer ripples she made, the better.

Once dinner was over and cleaned up, Emily found herself being coaxed to the living room and settled down on a seat next to Kitty.

With a sigh, Emily gave in and sat back to watch the movie put on. She didn't honestly care what was put on, as long as it didn't go as epically south as the last one did.

The name of the disc slid into the player was odd to Emily. It was a spice, or even a chemical. The cover of the case showed a pretty blonde. Emily vaguely wondered what it was about and what would have warranted a title such as that. As the individuals around her settled in for the movie, some even eager, Emily allowed herself to relax, just a little. She even helped herself to a couple of handfuls of popcorn from Kitty's bowl.

Past the first scene though, Emily could feel the tension creeping across her shoulders. The violence, however brief, made her insides twist and squirm as she resisted the slight temptation to get up and leap from the room. Her discomfort only grew as the film continued. The panic as the woman's husband went missing sent her heartbeat soaring.

Emily was offered a brief respite though, when one of the students paused the movie. "Okay," she asked, "what exactly is going on here? I get that makes a pipe bomb, but seriously, I want to know _how_ and if _we_ _can do that_."

Chuckles spread around the room and Ororo just shook her head as she replied, "I don't think it was anything we could really replicate. It was more likely to be manufactured by the writers and producers than anything –"

"Actually," Emily interrupted. "What she made was real. She mixed ammonia and iodine. Those two together can make an explosive crystal that is highly sensitive to motion. It's easy enough to make." A smile played across her lips, her expression making it obvious Emily was replaying an old memory in her mind. Looking up, she noticed the room's occupants staring at her. She cleared her throat, continued, "It's impractical for a pipe bomb, though. You'd need mostly pure chemicals, time enough to dry, and then just the force from the extinguisher to launch the tube would cause an explosion." Emily gestured to the TV in annoyance. "In real life, she would have blasted herself, not those other agents."

The student who had asked the original question gaped at her. "How do you know all this?"

Emily shrugged. "It's basic chemistry."

The students just stared at her dubiously.

Exasperated and more than a little desperate, Emily gestured to the screen and snapped, "Oh will you just play the movie already? I think your question was answered."

And the movie continued. This time, Emily was happy for the reminder that what she was watching wasn't real. It didn't really happen, wasn't a true representation of certain events.

Emily did well even after finding out the woman had been a spy the entire time. She did well, until… _he _was shot. Dead. And she did _nothing_.

Heart pounding once again, Emily's fingers dug into her arms as she continued watching. She couldn't accept what she just saw. Her breath was caught in the back of her throat and her entire body had gone incredibly still.

When events on the screen finally exploded, Emily couldn't sit still anymore. She mumbled some excuse under her breath as she shamelessly fled the room, knowing full well that all the blood had drained from her face.

Needing something, anything to do, Emily made a direct beeline for the kitchen.

The room was clean.

As it should have been. Cleaning it again would look odd to anyone that walked by.

About to leave, Emily caught site of a plastic corner by the center island. Heading for it, Emily snatched up the full bag of trash as soon as she saw it. Normally, Emily would have been annoyed that the bag had been left. She might have left it in the kitchen and made sure that the student that was responsible for taking it out did so, even if it was the next morning during breakfast. Normally, Emily wouldn't be gripping the thin white plastic as if it was her only lifeline to reality.

Instead, Emily was maintaining her death grip on the bag as she hauled it with her and out the door. She walked with a quick and focused pace to dumpster and tossed the trash over the trellis surrounding the large metal bin.

The resounding crash was oddly satisfying and Emily brushed her hands with a short sigh.

As she turned to head back inside, Emily's adrenaline ebbed just enough for her to become aware of her surroundings. Glancing around at the dark looming trees and open air, Emily's already tense limbs began to tremble. Walking as quickly as she could without running, back muscles tense in anticipation of an imagined attack from behind, Emily barely made it inside before she lost all of her composure.

And lost it anyways when an unexpected and all too familiar male grunt sounded from beside her.

Startled, Emily suppressed the shriek that bubbled up and instinctively shifted her body out of the corner as she faced her threat.

Logan stared at her, one eyebrow raised at her highly defensive body language, clearly not considering her to be much of a threat.

The stare was what snapped Emily out of her panic. Heat began to rise into her cheeks and ears as she realized just what happened.

"You alright?" He asked gruffly.

Jerkily, she nodded. "Yeah, fine. Just a little startled is all." Still embarrassed and highly anxious, Emily made to leave the room before too many questions got asked.

He snorted at her, not having to use any of his enhanced senses to know she was lying. He could see the tremble of her hands from where he stood. Still, Logan made no move to stop her as she walked away. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, he could see that the blush had spread across the back of her neck.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Emily cursed at herself. _Never panic. Panic leads to disorder, chaos, and death. Panic is for the foolish and foolhardy. _Never_ panic._

Vaguely, Emily wondered if there would ever be an end to the stupid mistakes. It seemed she was hard pressed to learn from them, yet nothing ever sunk in. Not enough to prevent the next mistake.

Skirting through the hallway by the living room, the brunette headed straight for her room. She didn't even pause when Kitty called out to her, wondering why the woman had left before the end of the movie.

She locked her door, then flopped onto the bed. Grabbing the pillow next to her, she curled herself into a tight little ball around it and focused on getting her limbs to stop shaking.

XMENXMENXMEN

Later that night, Emily was still edgy and not sure how to fix it. She tossed and turned in her bed, twisting up the sheets around her, until she finally went to the kitchen to heat up a little milk. Once the milk was on the stove, Emily settled down at a table behind the counter, in a spot not well seen from the door. She'd kept the lights off, to keep anyone else that was awake from knowing she was there. She settled her sweaty face against the cool wood of the table and willed her body to relax.

The quiet of the kitchen became a near peace as the normal creaks and pops of the house filtered through the halls to her. Her breath sounded loud against the table and Emily couldn't bring herself to slow it down to reduce the noise. It was so quiet, she could even hear it as the stove's heating element slowly warmed the milk. It would be ready soon. She couldn't let it boil. According to her grandmother, boiled milk causes constipation. Not willing to test that, Emily was going to make sure it was just warm...

Anyone else would have heard nothing. Anyone else would have panicked the moment they heard the gruff voice cut through the darkness of the kitchen.

"You alright, Emily?"

Anyone else.

Emily just sighed. "Just a little trouble sleeping."

The brush of clothing let the brunette know he was stepping closer. "You want to light on?"

"Logan," she whined. "You do realize I had to walk past the light switch to get over here, right?"

"…Right."

She could almost hear him roll his eyes as he walked over to where she rested. Emily winced at the scrape of the chair as he pulled it back and plopped himself down across from her.

"Heating up milk? Sure you don't want anything stronger than that?" The clink of glass on wood caused Emily to glance up.

Even in the low light, the bottle of bourbon was unmistakable.

She smiled weakly. "I'm sure." She laid her head back down.

He shrugged and left the bottle where it was.

* * *

A/N: I'm such a fruit. Not going to say why. I just apparently keep forgetting what I've previously written. Oh well.

So what do you guys think of Emily so far? Amodestpoet thinks he knows, but I haven't told him if he's right or not yet. He's a great beta.

Many thanks to my reviewers! **Reflectednightmare, Cowardice, Amodestpoet, **and **Krikanalo**, you guys are awesome!

Thank you to those who are already following this!

-Spirit


	4. Chapter 4

**You guys... I almost, _almost_, posted the wrong chapter. There was at least 1500 words missing. Clearly, today is not a higher functioning brain day. Gah. **

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. **

After her confrontation with Logan, Emily didn't sleep. She didn't even bother laying in the bed. She knew better than to even try. Instead, she kept her room dark and sat on her window sill for the rest of the night. Once, she caught movement that wasn't an animal, but Emily recognized the figure moving in the dark.

She sat still until dawn finally broke. Drawing the curtains tightly across the window, Emily turned away from the window. It was time for her to prepare for the day, and then head downstairs to the kitchen to get breakfast started.

Originally, breakfast was to be taken care of by one of the other professors. Emily had gotten up early and helped every morning despite that, and so it was now expected that she be downstairs aiding the morning crew.

The work kept her mind busy for a short period of time. The habitual motions of cooking and cleaning put her groggy mind into a lull and she hardly noticed the passage of time.

Soon, too soon, she was asked to Xavier's office.

As she walked down the long, dark wood hallways, she wondered what he would say. Would he be as aggressive as Logan was the night before? As passionate? Emily wouldn't blame him in the least if he was. Children lived here, thrived here.

_Survived_ here.

What would be the point if some homeless woman, some helpless human, put that all at risk?

Yet, she had told Logan the truth.

What was the professor going to think?

Just outside the heavy door, Emily huffed. She hated the unknown. Despised it and when she didn't loathe it, she feared it. The unknown twisted up the best of plans and made even the sturdiest men trip up. It made the most prepared unprepared.

Scientists were ambivalent about the unknown since it meant there was a mystery to be solved. Maybe, just maybe, the scientist who broached the unknown, who made a piece of that unreality reality, could make a name for themselves. A true scientist understands that not all discoveries are good and not all are bad and most fall right in the middle.

Politicians loved the unknown. They lived their lives twisting it, manipulating it into something falsely tangible. A scientist doesn't have to give a politician a solid number, just a good one. A number that can be used and, more often than not, that number? Doesn't exist.

Emily rubbed a hand over her face briefly, steeled herself. She could handle a scientist, but a politician? No go.

She heard the call from inside for her entrance.

Squaring her shoulders, Emily folded her hands behind her and walked inside with a long, strong stride.

The professor was patiently waiting behind his desk when she came to a stop before it.

"Emily," he began. "I'm sure you know why you are here."

"Yes, professor. I do." She cleared her throat. "Last night – "

He interrupted her, "Last night, you had an altercation with another one of my staff." The professor sighed, looked uncertain for a brief moment. "Many of the adults and students here have demons to deal with. Sometimes they can be dealt with here, other times this is merely a way station until the person is prepared to deal with those demons." His eerie gaze met hers. "I don't know what demons you have, Emily, and I don't need to know as long as the safety of this facility is continued. I know that trust demanded is not trust given and therefore can't be counted on."

She nodded in understanding.

"Is there a reason for me to worry?"

Before she could answer, someone else told her what to say.

_Tell him 'no'. _

Emily opened her mouth, hesitated.

_Tell him. _

"No," Emily finally whispered.

The professor stared at her for a moment and Emily met his stare unblinking. She knew what her face looked like, knew that it was equally unemotional and soft. It was a face she'd used before, a face that saved her very neck.

It was a face that convinces a person to trust even when they know they shouldn't. It gives the illusion of truth and is delivered with a dose of feminine innocence.

And just like all the others, the professor nodded his head.

She ducked her head, "Um, if that is all? I think there is some laundry that needs supervising."

Chuckling, he nodded. "By all means, don't let me keep you."

Her smile was thin as she turned and head out the door.

She was right that there was laundry to be overseen.

XMXMXM

As soon as the laundry was done, Emily made a beeline for the kitchen to brew yet another, stronger pot of coffee. She poured a cup, but before she could drink it a considerably grumpier figure filled the doorway.

Wordlessly, she passed the mug to him.

Logan grunted, but accepted it. He took a sip, looked surprised. By the scent he was expecting a darker and bitterer flavor than the rich and smooth one he experienced.

As Emily fixed a second cup for herself, this one considerably sweeter, she asked as nonchalantly as she could, "You find anything last night?"

Eyebrow raised, he stared at her.

Emily just stared back. They both knew he went out and searched the grounds last night. Emily didn't feel the need to elaborate.

"You expect me to?" He finally responded, unable to resist goading her.

At this, Emily looked away, sipped her own coffee. The rich flavor was as calming as the drink was energizing. She'd made it her 'secret' way, the way a friend had shown her years before. She refused to give any response to Logan's question, the very same question she'd answered the night before.

"No," he said quietly. He didn't tell her there was no sign of anyone ever being out there, but he didn't think he needed to.

Nodding, Emily accepted his answer and then checked the clock. She had just enough time to inspect the living areas before she needed to be back in the kitchen with the lunch crew. She drained the rest of her coffee, ignoring the flash of heat sent through her body, and sent the mug down in the sink to wash later.

"Time to see what disaster awaits me in the living room," she told Logan without expecting a response.

She was right, he didn't respond. Instead, he kept his eyes on her as Emily left the kitchen. He'd bet his last cigar that she still didn't want to go outside. He didn't follow her to find out though.

Logan knew the state that the living room was in.

So, he did the smart thing. He sat at the counter and waited.

It took all of three minutes for Emily to reappear, fuming.

He smirked as she began to rummage through the drawers.

"Need something?" He asked.

She whirled around. "How is it possible for there to be such a mess already? How has this place lasted this long? You have a herd of bulls living in a literal china hutch!"

He laughed and sipped his coffee again.

Emily threw her hands back in the air and turned back to the drawers. As her gaze caught one of things stored in that particular drawer, the proverbial light bulb lit up above Emily's head.

The feral sitting at the counter, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he caught the grin spreading across her face.

"Say, Logan," Emily stated. "You've seen the state the living room is in, right?"

"Yeah," he said slowly.

"You also know that I need faculty permission for any disciplinary measures I feel the need to take, right?"

A smirk was beginning to spread across his lips. "Right."

"And, you're considered senior faculty, right?"

Leaning forward with a full smirk, Logan asked, "What do you have in mind?"

Emily's grin turned triumphant.

XMXMXM

At lunch, Rogue joined Emily in the kitchen again. Same as before, Emily could _feel_ that there was a question plucking at the younger woman. After a few minutes of meaningless conversation Rogue finally asked it.

"What happened last night? During the movie?"

Emily shrugged, smoothly rolling her shoulders to cover the sudden tension in her body. She had been in such good spirits too. "Someone forgot to take the trash out in the kitchen," she offered as an answer.

Rogue clenched her jaw, peeved at the clear evasion. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Emily replied. "I'll have to talk to last night's cleanup crew to remind them that the trash has to be taken out every night. Someone likely just forgot, or didn't know." She shrugged. "It's not a big deal, but it needs to be done. Otherwise it can get tripped over or stepped on, and torn and then we have a whole new mess to deal with."

Rogue stared at her in disbelief. "Seriously?" She asked again.

"Trust me, you don't want to have to deal with a mess like that. I had this friend once who didn't take the trash out when he was supposed to and our co-" She abruptly stopped speaking. Her back was still to Rogue so the younger girl didn't see her bite her lip, hard.

The younger brunette sensed a change in the atmosphere and debated pushing the conversation with Emily. She wasn't the only one deeply curious about the human housekeeper the professor hired for reasons unknown to the students. Clearly, the senior staff knew, but no one was saying a thing. Yet, the tension across Emily shoulders was painfully obvious to Rogue and Rogue knew from experience how it felt when a person tried to push you farther than you wanted to go.

Instead, Rogue tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Let me guess, a royal mess was made?"

Hesitating for only a moment, Emily threw a small smile over her shoulder. "It was a complete disaster. Chicken grease got spread all over the floor, counters, _and_ cabinets. That kitchen probably still smells like baked chicken casserole."

Chuckling, Rogue winced in sympathy. "That sucks. How long did it take to clean?"

Emily rolled her eyes, "Oh, only forever. Not sure if we got all the spots either."

"'We'?"

"Well yeah, I wasn't going to leave it all to him to clean up. Not af-" Emily cut herself off again, shook her head with a grim smile on her face. "I just wasn't going to."

"So, he was a good friend?"

She nodded. "The very best."

"Did you two ever…?" Rogue let the question drop off, her meaning clear.

Emily shook her head 'no', paused to think about it a bit more, and her shoulders shuddered in revulsion. "That's like asking if I ever kissed my dweeby cousin who still ate his boogers at sixteen."

Rogue sat back in her seat and laughed, placing a hand over her stomach as the peals continued to echo around the kitchen.

Emily laughed too. "Oh gosh, no, I honestly don't think I've ever seen him in that kind of light. I'm sure that had more to do with me than with him though." Harmless conversation, Emily told herself. All you're having is harmless conversation.

"Oh?" Rogue asked, curious. "Why is that?"

"I – well, to be honest I'm not sure." Emily's hands felt clammy and the nervous trembles wanted to start in her arms. It didn't show though, she was certain of it. She just had to play this right. "I guess the best way to put it is that I was married to my work and so the only place to find a man was at work. And let me tell you, while the odds were good, the goods were odd."

Rogue choked on her drink. "What?" She sputtered as the meaning of Emily's words hit.

Giggling, Emily nodded. "You heard me. One guy even went so far as to paint his toenails yellow to cover up the fact that he had horrendous toe fungus."

Shaking her head while also shaking in laughter, Rogue asked, "Why didn't he just use a neutral colored polish?"

"That's what I asked!" Emily exclaimed, lifting her hands in exasperation. As she lowered her hands, Emily 'just happened' to get a look of the clock. She sighed dramatically. "Well, break time is over. The cleanup crew is going to be here soon."

"Oh, ok," Rogue looked surprised, but sat up anyways and deposited her dish in the sink. Saying goodbye, the younger female said one last thing before she left, "Just so you know, that movie? She kills everyone in the end." And with that, she ducked out of the kitchen, white locks of hair perfectly framing her face.

Emily stood frozen for several long moments after Rogue had left. The arrival of her cleanup crew startled her from her locked position.

The students were bewildered as she brushed past them, making a beeline straight for her room. She couldn't breathe. Their voices followed her down the hall.

"What was that about?"

"Dunno. Help me with this pan."

"Whatever."

XMXMXM

Later on that day, when the students were finally released from classes for the day, one group of youth found an interesting message left for them in the living room.

The remote was stuck inside a roll of paper towels, and a can of all purpose cleaner was tapped across several handles of the foosball table. A bottle of air freshener hung from the fan cord.

What took the cake though, was the fact that the vacuum cleaner had been mummy tapped to TV, guaranteeing that whoever pulled it off would see the note attached.

A young Asian girl with an unhealthy attachment to her yellow jacket was the one to read the note out loud:

"'_Use it or lose it guys. Clean up, or else you won't like what happens next.'_"

"Wow, Emily is getting serious," Bobby commented.

John Allerdyce openly scoffed. "She's just the professor's pity project."

"Come on, John. Don't be that way," one of the girls chided him.

He rolled his eyes at them before he retrieved the remote from within the roll of paper towels. Then he tossed the roll to the side. Since the tape had been cleared away from the screen, he clicked the television on and settled himself down on the couch.

Bobby frowned at him, "Man, what are you doing?"

John looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm watching TV."

"What about the note?"

"What about it? You want to be a good little boy and clean, go right ahead." He settled back further into the cushions.

The other students around him were still hesitant.

He rolled his eyes again. "She's the human housekeeper. It's her job to clean."

"Not your mess," a strong voice corrected from one of the doorways.

Emily smiled tensely at the teens who were caught off guard by her presence in the room. A few ducked their heads and scuttled past her. "So," she whispered to herself, "no one is stepping up. Lovely."

She stepped further into the room until she was standing directly in front of John. Emily knew she had the attention of every teen in the room, just as she knew it was time to assert herself fully into the position granted her by the professor. She was _not_ going to let a bunch of kids walk all over her, not when she was so tired of being tread on. It wasn't like this was the first time the students had been informed of the expected cleanliness of the common areas. She'd heard Ororo give the obligatory speech _twice_ in the past three and a half weeks when Emily was stuck with cleaning up yet another monumental mess.

"Look," Emily began, tone even and gentle, "you all are old enough to learn that you take care of what you are responsible for. If you make a mess, you clean it up. If a group of you makes a mess, the _group_ cleans it up." She bent forward towards John. "That includes you."

He barely made eye contact with her before looking around her to change the channel.

Something in Emily snapped. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was build up of weeks of stress, maybe it was the fact that she was tired of John's disrespect in particular. Whatever it was, it made her snatch the remote out of his hands and grip it just a little too tightly.

"Hey, give that back!" John snapped.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

He raised one back. "I'm sorry, did I stutter? Give it back."

"John," Bobby spoke up from behind him. "Cool it."

John glared back at Bobby. "What, you mean I should let the professor's human pet tell me what to do?" He shifted so he was facing Emily again. "You aren't a teacher, you aren't a mutant, heck, you aren't even my mother. You're just some lowly human that the professor took in out of pity. In my opinion he's wasting his time and should have left you on the streets."

Emily was surprised by the bone deep pity that flashed through her. She sighed, shook her head at the defiant teen still sitting on the couch.

"If this mess is still here after lights out, no one will like the consequences." Emily tossed the remote back at the kid and left the room with a confident stride.

John rolled his eyes again and went to turn to volume up. When he hit the button though, the menu screen appeared instead. As he began to hit random buttons, he discovered that none of remote's functions were working properly.

"The heck?" He muttered, smacking it against his hand a couple times.

Out in the hall, Emily smirked a little until she thought about the superior look on John's face. She didn't know what ability he was capable of, but she wasn't sure it mattered. What mattered was the fact she was finally understanding just what drove Xavier to desire a _human_ housekeeper. Prejudice like that which John possessed was dangerous.

Hopefully, she wouldn't screw everything up for Xavier.

Hopefully, he wouldn't screw everything up for her.

Hopefully.

She rubbed a hand over her face and wondered not for the first time what in the world she was doing.

_The good survive. Whatever it takes, whatever it means. They survive. The best, though, they go further. They don't just survive, they _thrive_. _

This time, the voice she hears is just a remnant of a memory that she wished she could call old.

XMXMXM

Dinner that evening goes as smoothly as can be expected.

The only surprise, in fact, was when Rogue approached her after the cleaning crew had taken care of the remains of dinner.

"Hey, Emily, um," she cleared her throat, "I have a bit of a favor to ask you." Her gloved fingers twisted around themselves.

Emily's eye catches the movement and she wonders not for the first time what Rogue's ability is. She hasn't asked yet, though. "Sure, what do you need?"

"Well, I just heard that it's Teacher Appreciation Week next week, and I was wondering if you could help me put something together for the professor and the others?" The girl bit her lip as she waited for Emily's response.

The brunette was surprised. "Uh, sure, alright. Do you have an idea for what you want to do?"

"I always used to cook for my momma, so…"

"So you'd like to cook a nice meal for your teachers?" Emily finished for her.

Rogue nodded.

"Dinner, lunch, or breakfast? If it's going to be just us two, we can only do one." Emily asked.

"Dinner," Rogue told her decisively. The older teen had clearly thought about what she wanted to do.

Emily could feel the smile pulling at her lips. "I assume you have a menu in mind?"

The girl nodded and held out a gloved hand holding a sheet of paper. "These."

On the sheet of paper were a few recipes written in a cramped scrawl that Emily could just barely discern. "These look… really good, actually. Yeah, I think it would be a great idea. I might have to ask the Professor permission to add some extra groceries to the standard list, that ok?"

"That's fine," Rogue assured her.

"There's like a National Appreciation Day for teachers, right? Do you want to do it on that day, or did you have a different day in mind?" She was still looking over the recipes as she asked this. She flipped the paper over and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, you have a recipe for grit cakes. You know what, I have a Creole sauce that would go fantastic over grit cakes."

"On the main day is fine." Rogue looked like she was ready to leave, but she was hesitating for a moment. "Thanks Emily."

"Not a problem. It's a good idea." Emily smiled as the teen grinned and spun out of the kitchen.

Emily, humming to herself, scanned over the page again. She grabbed a notepad and pen and began to write down ingredients that would need to be picked up especially for this dinner. Some of the ingredients she would definitely need to get permission from the professor to get, since he would have to order them. Without a legal ID, she couldn't purchase alcohol if she, by chance, got carded.

"Where did she get these recipes?" She wondered out loud to herself. Emily was very glad to find that none of the recipes were very complicated either. Her own, very basic, cooking skills would suffice for all of the dishes. She might be able to whip up a gravy from scratch, but a soufflé was woefully out off the brunette's league. So far out of her league, that Emily would need to follow the North Star to keep from getting lost if she ever decided to try and _find _ the ability to cook a soufflé.

No, Emily was just barely a good enough cook to put together an edible appreciation dinner. Folding up the paper, she tucked it away in the card holder that contained handwritten recipes from whoever previously cooked.

XMXMXM

Close to midnight Emily was standing in the doorway of the living room, inspecting the potency of her earlier threats.

It was worse than it had been earlier.

As her keen eye scanned the room, Emily knew in her gut that John had something to with the mess. She had no proof and could find none as far as she could see, but she _knew_. In fact, as she walked around Emily could see that a fair amount of the original mess had been cleaned up. A new and bigger one had replaced it though.

She spun on her heel and headed straight for the stairs that lead to the faculty wing, grumbling to herself the entire time, "… behave like children, going to be treated like children…"

She climbed up the stairs two at a time. Rounding the corner she headed for the teacher's wing and knocked on one of the doors.

Logan opened it.

"We were right," she said without preamble. "Phase 2 is needed."

His slowly spreading smile was a little too pleased for Emily's comfort. It was nearly creepy. He stepped out and shut his door behind him. "Spoke with the professor, he's on board."

Emily smirked. "Fantastic. So, I assume there is a teacher's lounge in need of a television set and a foosball table?"

"You bet there is."

With that, the pair headed straight back down the steps to the living room.

* * *

A/N: So, just to clarify, I don't hate John. He just needs... an attitude adjustment. Also, this chapter had a few more hints about Emily and her back ground. Does anyone think they have a good idea as to who she is? Let me know in a review!

For those who think this might be progressing a little slowly, trust me it's going to pick up very soon. And then, I think it's going to fly faster than even I expect.

Many, many thanks to my reviewers, **Krikanalo, Amodestpoet, Cowardice, **and **ReflectedNightmare**

Thank you also to my followers and favoriters (if that's even a word...). I have noticed and do appreciate it.

You all are fantastic!

- Spirit


	5. Chapter 5

**I found the inspiration to churn out another chapter. I hope this one clears up a couple questions, though I do want to specify: Emily and Logan are NOT friends yet. They just have a very, very tenuous alliance. We'll see how long it lasts... he he he he. **

**Many, many thanks to my beta Amodestpoet, who not only looks over my fanfictions but my original work also. He's a great friend. **

**Please, dear readers, read and enjoy!**

The next morning, Emily was approached by the young art teacher during breakfast. She'd heard the tall man approaching, so she wasn't surprised when she turned to find him looming over her.

"Hey Piotr, what can I do for you?" Emily asked, as she picked up yet another dish to dry.

"Rogue spoke to me," he replied.

Emily paused in her wiping. "Okay…" she responded, not fully understanding his meaning.

He cleared his throat. "I also wish to express my appreciation."

Frowning, she asked, "Through food?" She wasn't sure if she could handle more than one course of specially prepared meals.

She was in luck when the young man shook his head. "No, no. I have a different project in mind. However, I was hoping you would not mind if my gift was presented during the dinner you and Rogue are preparing."

Comprehension lit up her face. "Oh! Of course not!" The brunette bit her lip as the Russian gave her relieved smile. "Actually, is this gift of yours going to be just from you?"

He shrugged.

"Do you think you could put together something from all the kids who are interested in being a part of it? I can send some of them your way," Emily offered.

Piotr grinned. "Yes, do that."

"Alright," Emily smiled back as he turned and darted out the door.

As Emily continued cleaning the kitchen, she wondered where in the world that suggestion came from, and why in the world it did. The teachers here must be good ones, she mused.

XMENXMENXMEN

The rest of the day continued in a typical fashion, with Emily heading up the chores roster and keeping the meal times under control until the school day ended for the kids.

As soon as it did, she fixed herself a mug of coffee in the kitchen and leaned back against the counter to wait. It shouldn't take long for the state of the living room to be discovered. She'd decided against the bet with Logan on which kid was going to confront her first. No point when both she and the feral man had the same one in mind.

And she wasn't disappointed.

It took all of ten minutes for John's fuming figure to appear in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You!" He burst out.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, me," she responded.

Incensed, he stalked towards her. "What did you do with the TV?"

"Moved it," she said, tone dry.

"Well move it back."

"Excuse me?" She asked, disbelief and offense coloring her words. "I warned you. I warned you and everyone else in there. Now, you all get to deal with the consequences."

Bobby's head appeared around the corner as Emily was speaking.

"Warned me?" John asked with equal disbelief. "You are just a glorified servant. You have no place to warn me about anything, _human_."

Emily gritted her teeth at the teen's attitude. If he wasn't careful, he was going to be responsible for the first and only time she killed a kid. Angry, she took a step toward him and hesitated when his lighter was used to form a ball of flame in his hand.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Pyrokinetic," she stated. "Nice," she told him, sarcastic.

He growled, raised his hand offensively, but before he or Emily could do anything, John's hand was frozen over.

He swore. "Damn it, Bobby!" He shouted and turned on his friend, lighter out and ready to form a second ball of flame.

A wicked grin covered Emily's face as she snatched up the spray nozzle of the sink and turned to water on.

The jet of water that shot across the room reached further that Emily had anticipated, but Bobby didn't seem to mind getting caught in the crosshairs. Instead he used the water to further encase John's lighter in ice.

After a few short moments, John's fury at being out maneuvered drove him out of the kitchen. The pair left behind could hear him swearing down the hall until a firm command from Scott shut him up.

Bobby shook his head in amazement as he looked around the kitchen.

When his gaze fell on Emily, she grinned cheekily at him. "Thanks for coming to my rescue," she quipped.

He snorted. "No problem. Nice move with the hose." He noticed her free hand was still clenched into a fist at her hip and her grin wasn't tension free.

"What this thing?" She asked as she returned the nozzle to it's rightful place. "That was more experience than quick thinking. Nothing cools tempers like a dose of cold water."

"Umm," Bobby responded, about to disagree.

She continued on as if she hadn't heard him, "And if it doesn't cool them, then at least it sends them away."

Just then, an irate Scott cried from the kitchen doorway, '"What is going on here?"

Jumping into action, Emily grabbed up the hose again and sprayed Scott. The poor man sputtered when the cold stream hit his face and ducked out of the doorway to hide in the hall.

Bobby stared at Emily in shock. When she shrugged at him, he began to laugh.

"You're crazy," he said.

"That is not the first time I've been told that," she grumbled. Then she called out into the hall, "Hey Scott, it's safe. Sorry, you caught me by surprise."

Bobby snorted when she winked at him. He shook his head when she shushed him.

Scott's red sunglasses reappeared around the doorjamb. "What in the world was that all about?" He asked, incredulous.

Emily cleared her throat. At least he wasn't irate this time. "I just had an interesting conversation with a young man, goes by the name of John." She smirked at the teacher, "Want to know how I learned he was pyrokinetic?"

Scott closed his eyes as if pained. "I'll talk to him." He looked at Bobby. "Was he just showing off or actually meaning to hurt her?"

Bobby shrugged, "I don't know. He pretty upset over the living room."

"_He_ was upset?" Emily huffed. "_I_ was upset. The living room was trashed last night, and until that gets changed, the TV isn't coming back."

Scott swallowed and nodded, "Yeah, the professor mentioned that. He confronted you?"

"He's lucky a soaking is all he got. I may be human, but I'm not helpless," she informed Scott. "He looks down on humans, that much is obvious. If he doesn't grow up quick, that point of view is going to lead him to serious trouble."

The man didn't say anything, but just watched her as she grabbed a dry dish towel and began to mop up the water off the floor.

"Wait," Bobby spoke up. "You said the living room was a mess last night? We cleaned it up before we went to bed."

Emily looked up, "Well then, _someone_ made a mess after you. If there is no mess tonight, the foosball table comes back. If there's no mess for a week, the TV comes back. One night of mess, equals one day longer. That goes for any mess done by any person in that room. Makes sure the others know that, will ya?"

Bobby nodded. "No problem."

He left the room.

Scott watched him leave. "You sure you haven't worked with kids before?" He asked.

"Yeah," Emily answered. She cleared her throat as she used the edge of the counter to lift herself up. "Yeah, I'm sure. Never even been a baby sitter."

"No? Thought that was standard for teens and pre-teens looking to earn a few bucks." Scott said, stepping around her to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, no. I was a dog-walker growing up," she told him, chuckling. "I once had a dog drag me about fifty feet all because of a duck. A particular duck too, a female with a solid white head and black body."

Scott smiled. "What did your parents think of your dog walking business?"

She sighed and had to give the man credit. He was fairly stubborn and had very good timing when fishing for information about her life. Sometimes it worked better than she would like, other times the conversation ended very quickly.

Today though, she chewed on her lip, hesitated. "When I came home with twigs and grass in my hair and sticking to my clothes, my father laughed so hard his face turned purple. My mom walked out, saw the state of the two of us and rolled her eyes before wrangling me into a bath."

Surprise brighten Scott's expression and Emily could see the lift to his eyebrows. He recovered quickly and continued on, "Wrangle you into a bath? I take it you were a tomboy?"

"Oh yes," she told him. "Oh yes."

"So who helped you move the equipment?" Scott suddenly asked.

Emily frowned and then realized what he meant, "Oh you mean the living room stuff. Logan did. I think he really liked the idea."

"Of course he did," Scott muttered as he took a sip of his coffee. "You know, this is very good coffee."

Emily smiled softly, but didn't say anything.

Scott checked the time and straightened up quickly. "No rest for the wicked," he muttered, gave Emily an acknowledging nod, and headed out the door.

The brunette stared after him. Classes were over. Where was he headed off to?

XMENXMENXMEN

Early in the morning, Emily awoke covered in her own sweat. She rolled off the bed, choking on her breath. She leaned back against the mattress, using the coolness of the floor to try and force her body back to calmness.

Eventually the heaving breaths slowed and the sweat dried, leaving a vaguely greasy weight behind. She ran a hand through her hair, felts the knotted clumps from her restless night of sleep.

As the adrenaline faded, her shoulders slumped and Emily could feel a heavy weight dragging her very insides down. Her vision blurred.

The choking came back, but for an entirely different reason.

She pulled up her knees, curled her arms, and laid her head down on her forearms. "Oh Simon," she sobbed. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

She had no response, no phantom voice in her head, enemy cloaked as a friend. Just the dregs of her nightmare replying over and over again behind her eyes. The yells and the shot. Her throat was sore as if she'd just been screaming.

With a sudden urge to get up, Emily leapt to her feet. She paced in front of the bed, wiping furiously at the tears still falling and failed to hold back the sobs still shaking her form.

As she passed, her mind spun.

Why was she staying here?

Why? Why? Why?

What was the point in cleaning for, living with, feeding, and even disciplining these _children_?

Four weeks.

28 days.

28 days playing a game. 28 days endangering herself, 28 days endangering the others.

Unless…

Unless, this was a trick. A test. Something else to torment her. Just another hoop to jump through, just when she thought she'd broken free.

Her heartbeat slowed as an odd calm stole over her. It was long past time for her to leave.

There was a knock at her door, a very quiet one.

She groaned.

Emily wiped furiously at her face before grasping the knob and swinging the door open.

Rogue stood on the other side.

The girl had her mouth open to speak, but paused as she took in the older woman's ashen features. "Are you alright?" She whispered.

"Fine," Emily said, brushing off the concern. "What's up?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I saw your light on, and I was just wanting to make sure we've got everything for tonight."

Emily forced a smile. "Yeah, sweetie. The professor was fine with the plan and Piotr was the one to pick up the groceries, since I needed white wine."

"Ok, ok," Rogue replied, wringing her hands.

Emily realized she was still wearing her gloves. The question slipped out of her mouth before Emily could have the chance to pull it back in. "What's your ability?"

The younger woman froze. "Um, well," she stumbled over her words. "I – ah. It's my skin. If I touch someone, I take from them."

"Take from them?"

"Powers if they're mutants. Long enough and I can kill them," Rogue admitted sheepishly.

"And it's a lot faster if they are human?" Emily asked shrewdly.

The young brunette nodded, refusing to look at Emily.

"Don't." Again, Emily's mouth was moving before her brain could make her stop.

Rogue looked up in confusion.

After biting her lip, Emily elaborated. "Don't be ashamed. Don't be embarrassed. Don't," she paused before speaking more forcefully, "_do not_ be afraid. Fear," Emily sighed, fought back the crazy tears building behind her eyes, "fear is a waste of time. It blinds you to what matters and warps what isn't important."

"But I can't –"

The housekeeper cut her off. "The danger or the problem can be real, but if you are too afraid to get through it then you are just going to get yourself or someone you care about killed."

Rogue stared at her as the breath left Emily's lungs.

She couldn't fight back the tears anymore and ducked her head away from the girl standing outside her door.

"Maybe, Emily," the girl's voice was stronger, "you should take your own advice."

And she left.

Emily glanced up long enough to watch the newly strengthened girl walk back down the hall to her room.

_Seems like a reason to stay._

Emily nearly bit her lip as she jumped. "What?"

_I promised, Em. I promised. _

She gave up the fight and slid to the floor in a weeping heap. "How are you not dead?" She asked.

There was no answer.

XMENXMENXMEN

By the time Emily had pulled herself together enough to do more than merely function, it was time to get the Appreciation Day dinner started.

The stew had already been started and was cooking when Rogue breezed into the kitchen.

"How are you?" The older teen asked.

Emily shrugged. "Better." They both knew she had been a total mess when making breakfast. Even the coffee took a hit because of it. Poor Scott hadn't been able to conceal his wince after pouring himself a cup.

"Thank you."

The quiet words caught Emily's attention more than loud ones would have. She glanced at the younger brunette. "For what?"

"What you said this morning. I still think you need to follow your own advice, but it's good advice anyways," Rogue told her, tone slightly apologetic.

Emily shrugged. "Glad it was worth something to you." She sighed. "Alright, the cobbler can be done last, since it is the easiest. I've already got the stew going. Are you sure you only want that for the appetizer? It looks pretty hearty."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. Besides, it's my grandma's dish we'll be cooking for the main course, so –"

"So you're excited to be cooking that. I get it. Alright, I'll get started on that if you think you can handle the grit cakes," Emily said.

Snorting, Rogue gave the older woman a look. "You kidding me?"

Emily smirked. "Right, what was I thinking?" She rolled her eyes as she grabbed a large pot. She set it on the granite countertop next to the sink and used the hose to begin filling the pot with water.

The sound of water striking metal filled her ears uncomfortably for a few short moments. As she was standing at the counter, she was well aware of Rogue's position to her left. When a gentle touch landed on her right elbow and she turned to find a very tall, very blue individual, Emily jerked.

In her surprise, she lifted the nozzle of the hose without releasing the button.

Henry 'Hank' McCoy couldn't raise his hands fast enough to shield his face before he was hit. Sputtering, he backed up a step.

Rogue gaped. "Did you just…?"

Hands clamped over her mouth and eyes wide with horror, Emily squeaked. "Oh my gosh," she said, words muffled by the fingers covering her lips.

For his part, the man in front of her had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry, I realized you couldn't hear me and should have waited to announce my presence." He very well knew that his appearance had the tendency to frighten the unsuspecting. Charles had mentioned he'd employed a human housekeeper, but he shouldn't have assumed she'd be able to handle his sudden presence.

The woman's eyes grew wider. She slowly began to shake her head.

"I was just going to get some coffee, and then I will be out of your hair,' he motioned to the pot behind her with one large blue hand.

He mistook the amazement in her eyes as she followed the motion of the hand for fear.

"Emily," Rogue hissed, eyes dancing between looking at Hank to looking at the frozen brunette.

Slowly, Emily turned to the younger woman. "Did I… just hose down… the _Secretary of Mutant Affairs?_"

Rogue bit her lips and nodded her head. A small giggle escaped her.

Emily looked up to the ceiling, feeling all her blood drop to her toes. She looked back at the face of the man in front of her. Smalls droplets of water were slowly rolling their way down to the ends of long strands of hair. Emily realized those hairs were part of his mane. His mane! And it was wet!

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Secretary, I am so, so sorry!" She scrambled to open up a drawer and nearly threw him dry dish towel. As he accepted, she continued apologizing, "I'm so sorry, I should've been paying better attention to my surroundings."

He thanked her for the towel and tried to disagree, but she kept talking over him.

"Oh gosh, I soaked you down didn't I? I am so, so sorry. I can't believe I did that." She had to clamp another hand over her mouth as a hysterical giggle bubbled up. Blindly she reached out and grabbed the sleeved arm of the teen next to her. Her torso twisted as if to hide behind Rogue as laughter began to shake her body.

She tried to reign it in, but every time she looked back at him and his damp fur, Emily lost her cool. "I just sprayed the Secretary of Mutant Affairs with a sink hose." She was gasping for air as she asked Rogue, "How is this my life?"

"I take it you recognize me." Hank's deep baritone carried across the kitchen and over Emily's laughter.

Still unable to face him and hand still covering her mouth, Emily nodded.

He cleared his throat. "I was afraid my appearance frightened you, and I apparently I was right, but in the wrong way."

She finally turned back to face him. "I am so sorry. Really, I did not mean to do that."

He chuckled, "Yes well, the impromptu shower was unexpected, but there's been no damage done. My electronics," he patted where his inner breast pocket lay, "are protected by a thicker layer of fabric."

Emily nodded, giggles finally subsided, but still feeling a little breathless. "Well, good. Protected from hose wielding housekeepers." She giggled again. Obviously, they weren't as subsided as she thought.

"Oh, it could have been far worse," he left the rest of the sentence off and held out one hand to her.

Catching on quick, she reached out and grasped his hand firmly. "I'm Emily, Mr. Secretary."

"Hank," he gently corrected her.

"Hank," she repeated with a soft smile. "Now, you said something about coffee?"

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind."

Emily shook her head. "How could I? A cup of coffee that isn't even mine is the least I can do." She pulled out a mug. "How do you take it? Cream? Sugar?"

"Yes," he replied.

She finished and handed him the mug.

Rogue watched the pair. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her task on the stove. Despite Emily briefly using her as a shield, the pair had already forgotten her presence.

Hank sipped the hot brew and then smiled. "Sea salt?" He asked.

Emily grinned. "Yep. You know that trick too?"

He snorted. "Of course I do."

That caught Rogue's attention. "Wait, you put salt in the coffee?"

"In the grounds. That way you get the rich roast without the bitterness coffee can have," Emily explained.

"Seriously?" Rogue asked.

"Seriously," Hank replied. He raised his mug in Emily's direction. "Thank you." He turned to leave.

Emily reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "Wait," she said.

He turned back to face her.

"Are you staying for dinner tonight?" She asked.

Hank hesitated, eyes scanning the kitchen. "I was going to, but if I'm imposing…?"

Emily's eyes widened comically. "Oh no, that's not what I meant. I just want to make sure we make enough. I mean," she gave him a frank look, "honestly, you're a big guy and I don't want you to leave the table hungry."

The fur over his cheeks ruffled slightly and he ducked his head.

Suddenly, Emily realized she might have said something that embarrassed him. She didn't know what to say to recover from the unknown blunder, so she did the second best thing she could.

She kicked him out of the kitchen.

Gently, of course.

Hank still knew he was being kicked out. He left, smiling softly as he did.

Once he was gone, Emily muttered to Rogue, "Good call on the Brunswick stew." She caught Rogue staring at her. "What?"

"Who _are_ you?" Rogue asked. "Like are you a crazy person?"

Emily drew back in surprise and found her mouth unable to work.

The younger brunette continued on. "You aren't scared of us. Of _any _of us. You know what I can do, and grabbed me with no problem." She gestured to the doorway. "You were more surprised by the fact he's the Secretary of Mutant Affairs, than the fact he's a huge, blue, furry mutant. I would even guess you think he's hot!"

Emily's ears burned and she hastily put her back to the girl. She covered by grabbing the full enough pot and carrying it to the stove. As she set it down, she admitted, "I guess I'm not too fond of humans."

"You are human," Rogue stated, incredulous.

Emily huffed mirthlessly. "And your point is?"

The girl fell quiet. "Oh."

"Alright, let's get this dinner done."

* * *

A/N: So Emily has been at the mansion for a month now and still people are trying to figure her out. Hm... has anyone got any ideas as to her past? I know some of you are stumped, but I think Rogue raised a few good points. What do you all think?

Also, I hope you all don't think that Emily is bouncing between emotions too much. This is a woman under a lot of stress for a significant period of time and trying very valiantly to be normal. This can cause bouts of hysteria or the 'laugh' part of 'laugh or cry'. I know I laugh when I'm worried, so...

Many thanks to my reviewers **Cat Lea Takersdarkone, krikanalo, Marmalade123, BlueBlanket121, **and **Amodestpoet**

Also, many thanks to those who have added this story to their favorites and/or alert lists.

All of you are great!

- Spirit


	6. Chapter 6

**So sorry this took so long to get posted. This semester has been crazy! I love geology and all, but sometimes I want to pull my hair out. **

**Many thanks to Amodestpoet for being my beta and reminding me to write sometimes. **

**Please, read and enjoy!**

Dinner that night went over very well. At least, Emily thought it was going over well. She didn't really know. She'd hidden in the kitchen while the kids were presenting their gifts and serving the teachers. They had really gone all out, and the brunette woman didn't want to intrude on their moment.

Though she was curious to what Piotr had been able to put together. She'd seen the monstrosity of a box that he hauled to dining room, but hadn't yet had the chance to ask what was inside.

Instead, Emily ate her own helping of the gorgeous meal in the kitchen, while she made sure the next course was prepped and ready to go when her volunteer servers showed up for the next set of plates. Rogue had protested Emily staying in the kitchen, but the woman had put her foot down. She knew her place and she knew it wasn't with them, the teachers who put so much into the school.

Emily had been impressed by the number of students who had shown up to help with dinner, and from a wide range of ages. The age spread wouldn't have meant as much with an older group, but with teenagers and preteens it represented a wide range of maturities. That's even when considering the amount of growing up these kids were already forced to do.

Ushering off the last kid with a dessert plate, Emily began to clean up. Thank goodness she was in the habit of cleaning as she cooked, usually when waiting for the oven timer to go off, or else the massive amount of dishes to clean would be even larger.

She hummed to herself as she rinsed off each dish before stacking what she could in the dishwasher. Some of the items were not dishwasher safe, so she'd be cleaning those by hand once the machine was running.

"Hey, no! That's not allowed!" A young voice cried from behind Emily.

One eyebrow raised, Emily turned to stare at Ricky incredulously. "Excuse me?"

Ignoring the look, Ricky rushed forward to squeeze himself in between Emily and her task.

Yelping, she cried, "Hey, ok, hold let me put this dish down before I drop it. What is with you?" She scrambled to set the dish down before she was out of reach.

"You aren't supposed to do that!" Ricky sounded absolutely distressed.

"What are talking about?" Emily asked, baffled. "I was doing my job!" A squeak escaped her when Ricky ended up behind her both hands on her lower back as he began to push her out of the kitchen. Emily dug her heels in and tossed a dry look behind her shoulder. "Kid, I weigh more than you. This is a battle you are going to lose."

Emily would have been right, if reinforcements hadn't arrived.

"Kitty, what are you doing?" The teenager had a hold of Emily's hands and was dragging her while Ricky pushed. "Alright, alright, I'm leaving I'm leaving!" She huffed and stumbled out of the kitchen and almost into a sniggering Bobby.

"Wait!" Ricky cried.

Annoyed, Emily turned back only to have a plate of dessert shoved into her hands along with a spoon. Emily looked down at the plate them back up to Ricky's pleased face. Her shoulders slumped with defeat and she smiled down at the boy. "Thank you, Ricky."

All too proud of himself, the boy bounced back into the kitchen.

Emily turned an exasperated gaze on Bobby. "Did I just get kicked out of the kitchen?"

Bobby nodded. "Yep. Don't worry, we'll make sure everything gets taken care of." He patted her on the arm. "It's a nice night out. You should go sit by the fountain or something, and relax."

As if she could relax while being outside.

"Alright, I'll go chill," Emily muttered. She walked down the hall away from him, well aware of both his eyes following her and of the melting ice cream sitting on top of the hot cobbler in her hands. While she didn't want to sit by the fountain, the area was too exposed for her tastes, there was a nice trellis that cast a shadow over a bench, right near the door.

During the day, she wouldn't dare sit there, but the darkness gave her the illusion of safety and staying hidden from the world. It had been near a week since the incident with Logan, and his lack of discovery, but she wasn't going to be walking through the woods anytime soon.

She settled in the seat and was surprised to catch a whiff of jasmine. Emily hadn't realized it was that time of year already. The scent was gorgeous. The cool breeze was lovely too.

Forcing herself to relax, Emily scooped up a bit of ice cream along with warm crust and fruit. She moaned as the dessert hit her taste buds. She hadn't told Rogue, but cobbler was her favorite dessert by far. There were only a few others that came close.

The door open and Emily looked up in surprise. She saw a tall frame of blue through the glass panes and was surprised.

So was he apparently, when he caught sight of her on the bench he froze. "Hello," he said.

"Hey, Hank," she responded with a small smile.

He cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I…?" He gestured to the patio around them.

Laughing she shook her head. "Oh no, not at all," she assured him. "Would you like me to leave?" She began to stand, half eaten cobbler in one hand.

Appalled, he held out his hands as if to stop her. "No, no, don't leave on my account. Please," he settled on a bench across from her.

"Alright," she said.

They fell into comfortable silence. Emily continued eating, humming in satisfaction.

Hank smiled at the sight. "Dinner was lovely tonight. Thank you," He told her.

Inexplicably, Emily felt heat build in her face. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it." Her smile was soft. "However, I can't take much credit," she informed him. "Rogue's family must have some great cooks to produce recipes like that."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm glad our cook got to enjoy her own work, too." He motioned toward the plate in her hands. "I had wondered if you were the one behind the dinner tonight."

Emily raised one hand cut off that train of thought. "Oh no, this was _not _my idea. The kids really deserve all the credit for putting this together. Their ideas, their desire. I was just a tool for them to get the job done." She frowned. "Though, I did get kicked out of the kitchen not too long ago."

"Well, good," he said.

She gave him a look. "If they don't clean up, I'm drafting you to help."

"If I could get a second helping out of it, then I'd be glad to."

Emily gave him a horrified look. "Oh my gosh, are you still hungry?" She thought she'd made it clear that there would be enough food. _Was_ there enough food?

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I assure you, I had plenty to eat," he said, laying a hand on his stomach. "I suppose second helping wasn't accurate. More like second meal. I apologize for the misunderstanding."

Giggly for a short moment, Emily just shook her head. "You had me worried for a moment. I thought I'd underestimated your… appetite."

He noticed her hesitation and debated whether or not to call her out on it. Instead, he asked another question that had been plaguing him. "Besides the initial soaking, you do not appear to be startled by my appearance. And of course, you are a human working amongst mutant children."

"And you're wondering how that happened." This time her smile seemed more drawn. She set down her empty plate on the bench next to her. "And if it's something you can later use to your advantage."

Startled, Hank stumbled over his words, "That's not – well, yes, but – no, I mean – "

"Hank," Emily lightly chided him into silence.

He frowned, disgruntled, but fell quiet.

Emily mulled over her words, not sure what she wanted to say. She was supposed to be in hiding for goodness' sake, not having a pleasant discussion with a prominent political figure. A figure that's a friend of the Professor's.

Her breath caught, and she fought against revealing her sudden panic to him.

Outwardly, all Hank could see was that Emily went very still, expression still thoughtful. Her heartbeat accelerated though, and fear began to roll off of her. He couldn't imagine why… unless she was afraid of him? She hadn't been yet, but humans had been known to change their minds.

As anxiety began to creep in her bones again, and her stomach rolled. Emily knew she needed to say something and then leave the conversation before she said or did something compromising.

The words that rolled out of her mouth were not ones she'd planned on speaking, but as she spoke, Emily found that she couldn't stop. "I'd like to say I'm mature and don't judge a person based on looks or abilities, but that's not true. I very much judge a person based on that. I judge them on the person they portray."

He wasn't quite sure what she meant. "Such as?" He prompted.

"I wasn't very nice to Scott when I first met him. He always wants people to believe the best of him and so he puts so much effort into hiding his faults. I think that's some of the reason why he doesn't like Logan," Emily admitted.

"Because Logan doesn't hide his faults. He simply doesn't care too."

"Why should he?" Emily shrugged.

Silence fell again, but this time, Hank broke it. "That doesn't quite answer my question, however."

"But doesn't it? If I don't like people who hide themselves, then who would I like best? The people with no choice." Her tone was bitter as she stared hard at Hank, tension radiating from her. "These children have no control and so, no choice but to acknowledge who and what they are. They can't hide, can't fake it. I _like _that about the children." She snorted, scoffing at herself.

"And I'm – "

"A blue simian feral the size of a bull. Not something so easily covered up," she said. Finally, she looked away from him. "Do you know what the best part is?"

He watched as she gathered her plate and silverware and stood to go inside. "What's the best part?" He asked.

Emily paused in the doorway, mouth opened to speak. Instead, she just released an irritated huff and walked inside. As she did so, she was fully aware she'd just wordlessly admitted to being the largest hypocrite of them all.

As Hank watched her walk away, he sighed. Perhaps instead of sitting across from her, he should have gone straight down to the fountain, as Rogue had suggested.

XMENXMENXMEN

That night, Emily couldn't sleep again. She was restless with anxiety, the earlier panic steadily growing as the evening dragged on. The source of her fear was easy.

Hank.

Henry 'Hank' McCoy.

Secretary of _freaking_ Mutant Affairs.

Friend of Professor Charles Xavier.

The longer she stayed at the mansion the more danger she was in. Emily had known that from the beginning, but she hadn't realized just how big the consequences could be until the moment she turned to see that brilliant blue face in what she was starting to think of as _her_ kitchen.

He likely didn't realize just how much her life was in his hands.

She hated that thought.

Her life, in someone else's hands.

Besides. One could say the opposite was true.

She squeezed her eyes shut against that errant thought before more popped open.

Spurred into action, she swiftly leapt out of the bed and headed straight for her wardrobe. When she did so, she hesitated for the briefest of moments. Inside the wardrobe contained the evidence of not only the professor's, but the fellow teachers' and students' generosity. T-shirts and sweats with the schools logo across the front. A pair of 'out-of-fashion' shorts one of the teens gave her. Underwear Emily asked Jean to pick up for her early on, before it became evident that Emily refused to leave the mansion. A notepad with all her 'best ways to clean' notes.

A small stack of patches she had yet to iron on to her worn bag sitting next to the folded fabric of a _new _bag that had appeared outside her door one morning. The gesture would have been rude, if the bag hadn't been such good quality.

Quickly, she unrolled the crisp fabric of the new bag and began to fill it with items she didn't mind the weight of on her back. She didn't grab any of the clothing with the school's logo, opting for the few items of clothing that left.

In the bathroom, she snatched up the small travel sized case of hygiene products she'd been able to get. The larger bottles she liked, but were too large to bring with. Not when her next stop was the kitchen.

In the kitchen, she grabbed a couple of apples, a block of cheese from the fridge she meant to cook with later that day, and a couple bottles of water. Where she could fit, she added a couple granola bars and even a couple Pop-Tarts.

She slung the pack over her shoulders and headed straight from the kitchen to the front door. She didn't know she was being watched.

Emily hadn't been the only one unable to sleep that night. Logan stood at the top of the stairs, watching as the brunette appeared to finally be making a break for it. He was surprised it took so long. He'd known she'd wanted to run from the moment she stepped foot into this place. He just couldn't figure out what it was she was so afraid of that kept her from leaving sooner.

As he watched, he could see her confidence in her decision starting to leave as she neared the door. Her stride slowed and came to a complete stop, just in front of the door. One trembling hand reached for the doorknob.

The trembling hand caught him off guard. She'd trembled with anger the night he'd confronted her, but he'd yet to see her tremble with fear. It was something that had really bothered him. She had plenty of fear. As a feral, he'd have to be dead to have missed it. She was constantly afraid and constantly _hiding_. Her fear and everything else that went along with it. It put him on edge, told him he was missing a puzzle piece revealing to the whole big picture.

Her hand never made it to the brass knob and she collapsed to her knees, crying. Her hands were clasped tightly over her mouth to keep the sounds of her tears muffled, but Logan could hear her clearly. She pressed her face against her thighs as she began muttering, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."

More disturbed than he was concerned, Logan slowly descended the stairs. He made no attempt to hide his presence, but nor did he announce it. His footsteps fell heavy behind Emily as he approached.

She heard him and jumped up and away from him.

He stared at her, wondering just what in the world her problem was. As far as he could tell, the woman was an emotional basket case who just barely kept it together during the day. When she was distracted, had something to do, like cooking today, she seemed fine. But tonight, now that all the festivities are over? She's right back at square one.

He'd seen her outside with the blue ape and he'd bet plenty of money it was that conversation that drove her to her current state. Woman was a useless idiot.

Emily could barely stand to look at him, she was so embarrassed. She'd just displayed an utter lack of control. An ingrained sense of terror and expectation of ridicule and punishment filled her. Shaking her head, she pressed one hand to her temple, trying to ward of those dark thoughts.

"Don't say anything. Please, just don't say anything," her voice was surprisingly strong. She was already burying the earlier outburst.

Logan just cleared his throat and waited. He hadn't planned on say anything. Things were starting to make just a little bit of sense. He wanted to be sure, though, and the blunt approach hadn't worked the last time. Not only that, but he was _still_ on Ororo's bad side.

Already the episode was passing, buried under layers of a stubborn calm that Logan had seen pretty often. Her stance shifted, became stronger and less affected by her surroundings. Her shoulders tilted back and her back straightened.

The effect nearly made him growl.

Another piece of the puzzle fit in place. He recognized the stance, felt like he had seen it _so_ many times before.

Fury wanted to build in him, and a step closer only to have her gaze shift so that she was no longer looking him in the eye but into the space over his shoulder. He could yell and rant as much as he wanted and she would take it. That's what that shift meant.

A step closer and her feet would plant themselves and her hands would be clasped tightly behind her.

With that realization, Logan shook his head in disgust and took a step back. "Come on," he said.

Emily's gaze shifted back to him. "Why?"

"Can't sleep, right?" He asked.

She nearly rolled her eyes. That much was obvious. "Yeah."

"Well then, come on." With that, he began walking away. He didn't bother to look back to see if she was following him.

More than a little confused by the sudden change of events, Emily followed him. She had been certain he was going to get in her face and… well, yell. Now that she thought about it though, what would he have yelled about? Trying to leave? Not leaving? Finding her crying? None of that made sense, not really, not when compared to the extreme anger that Emily could nearly _feel_ rolling and building under the surface. He couldn't have known anything else, right?

New panic wanted to come to the surface, but Emily beat it back. The game had changed and she didn't have the luxury of dealing with her emotions right then and there. Just like always.

She followed Logan about three paces back, close enough to seem like she was trusting him, but far enough to be able to react, should anything happen.

Oddly enough, Emily realized Logan was leading her to the gym. The place was kept locked at night, so Emily never really had an opportunity to use it. Physical activity could be a great way to work out the day's anxieties.

Apparently, Logan had a key. Or knew the code, as it were.

He led her inside and the lights automatically turned on.

"So," he said. "Where are you going to start first?"

Emily glanced around, stopping when her gaze caught the treadmill. A very soft smile crossed her lips as she relaxed just a little bit. "I'm going to run."

He just nodded as she made her way over to the machines. He followed her only to explain how the equipment worked. It was higher tech than she was used to, having been modified for some of the students with speed and endurance based mutations. There wereeven headphones available for use to listen to music.

Turning the setting up, Emily started with a light jog.

As she began to move, music played through headphones. She grinned at the song and turned up the speed. She did it in small increments consistently until she was full out running.

_We cannot afford to be innocent, _

_ Stand up and face the enemy. _

_ It's a do or die situation_

_ We will be invincible!_

Good old Pat Benatar.

Logan watched as she steadily upped the speed, an odd kind of confidence filling her movements. Running was clearly her thing.

He glanced out at the sparring mats. He wondered what else was her thing.

XMENXMENXMEN

The next morning, Emily rolled over under her covers. Her eyes opened and she caught sight of an early morning beam of light filtering in through her window. It was a little later than she would have liked, but not the end of the world. Not by any means.

It had been quite a while since she felt so rested.

Even more than that, her muscles were thrumming with the need to get moving, to get to work. Last night's run had done her a lot of good.

Last night in general, however, may have done a lot of bad. Her interaction with Hank could have been _very _bad. Yet, it didn't outshine the interaction with Logan later that night. She had been just about to walk out the door when that damn voice just like Simon's told her to stop, told her she was right where she was supposed to be.

She'd collapsed, so confused and outraged that the place where she was in an incredible amount of danger was the place where she was most needed. It made so little sense to her. Truly, how could that be true? Yet it was _Simon's _voice. That's not something easily faked. She knows from experience. Yet, it has to be. Yet, as much as she knows it has to be, so does everyone else. So, then, why, oh why does she still hear him?

Then, Logan found her. Maybe he'd been there the whole time. She'd allowed herself to get so wrapped up in her own mess, in her own mind, that she'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one suspicious.

It would be the feral to figure it out. All the training in the world can mask a face and most body language, but as a human Emily could never mask her own hormones or heartbeat. Freaking ferals. She wondered if McCoy was the same. More than likely he was.

Emily dragged herself out of bed and forced herself to be ready to face the day. After all, '_It's a do or die situation._'

* * *

A/N: A few more clues into Emily's personality and situation, along with a little more interaction between her and Logan. Don't worry everyone! Emily's story will be revealed, but not all at once and not to everyone at once. I'm trying to be as true to the XMen characters as I can, while still developing Emily. And let me tell you, it's hard to do without spilling all the beans at once.

Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter. Reviews do inspire me to write sooner (usually to the detriment of my papers), so thank you to **koryanders, Cat Lea Takersdarkone, ReflectedNigthmare, **and **Amodestpoet**

Thank you to those who have favorite or are following this story.

You all are great!

-Spirit


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry for the long delay on all my stories, I just have to say that life has gotten in the way, big time. I really should have expected it though cuz... I'm going to graduate soon! Little over a month. Gonna get my Bachelor's Degree in Geology! Woot! **

**Holy crap. That just hit. I hadn't been paying attention to the time going by. Oh boy. **

**Well here's the next installment, please read and enjoy!**

Emily made her way downstairs and was glad to find the morning crew already on duty. The kids had been getting better and better about that. Pretty soon, she'd be able to not show up and all the work would get done in her absence. Of course, if Emily did that then she would end up finding something else to do with her newfound free time.

The students on duty greeted her as she walked into the kitchen, the chorus of "Morning, Emily" more than a little heartwarming.

The brunette just smiled at them all and got to work. As she began scrubbing the pans and utensils that had already been used, someone sidled up next to her to dry.

"So, last night went really well," Rogue said. "Thank you for all your help."

Emily shrugged, "No problem. I'm glad it went as well as it did."

Tucking a white lock behind one ear, the teen grinned. "Yeah, me too. Did you get to eat any of that cobbler?"

"I did. How about you?" Emily asked.

Rogue nodded. "Just a little, but don't worry. I got plenty to eat last night."

"Good," Emily said, relieved. "I got kicked out of the kitchen, so I didn't get a chance to find out if anyone went hungry."

"Well, I know of at least one who didn't," Rogue told her.

Emily nodded and then frowned. The girl had definitely used a sly tone when she said that. And, Emily had been kicked out of the kitchen by Bobby… Was Hank outside because of Rogue?

When the woman turned to look at the teen standing next to her, she just barely caught the tail end of a mischievous look. _That little… _Emily raised both eyebrows and asked, "So whose idea was it to play matchmaker? You or lover boy?"

The blush that bloomed over Rogue's cheeks was worth it. "Well, that depends. Did it work?"

Sighing, Emily shook her head. "No, Rogue. It didn't. And I'd appreciate not trying again."

"But why? He's totally sweet on you even though you hosed him down and you were plenty nice to him," Rogue honestly didn't understand.

Emily was uncertain how to further explain herself. To say this had never happened to her before would be accurate. She tried for the class differences approach, "Look, I have hardly a penny to my name and am only living here under the grace Professor Xavier. A politician can't be seen with that kind of person, not like _that_."

Unfortunately for Rogue, the girl no response beyond, "But that shouldn't matter!"

"It still does," Emily refuted. "It matters very much. Plus, think about his reputation. The Secretary of Mutant Affairs has to stoop so low as a homeless _human_ woman in order to find a date? It wouldn't look good at all."

Rogue was dumbfounded. Such a thing had never crossed her mind. "I guess…" She was still unwilling to believe it.

"Yeah," Emily said softly. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's someone out there for me." Emily nearly cursed herself. She just gave the girl permission to try and set her up with someone else. Crud. "So, did Jules do the eggs this morning?"

Rogue's look made her laugh. "No. There is no way I am letting her near the eggs after last time."

Emily kept laughing.

Rogue didn't comment on the fact it didn't sound real.

XMENXMENXMEN

That afternoon, Emily was intercepted on her way from the laundry room to the kitchen. It was Piotr who stopped her, a gentle hand touching her elbow.

"Logan would like you to meet us in the gym," he said.

Emily frowned. "Alright," she said, confused. "Did something happen? Was there a spill or did someone start bleeding?" She shifted to head for the supply closet.

With a small smile, Piotr shook his head. "No, no. He just wants you there."

This confused Emily even more. "Seriously? Did he say why?"

"You will see."

"You know," Emily said with eyes narrowed, "I hate when people say that. It almost always means it will be something I won't like."

A deep chuckle followed her statement, but Piotr lead her to the gym mostly in silence.

Once there, Emily saw the students gathered around the sparring mats and a feeling of dread hit her hard. On the mats, stood Logan. He was speaking gruffly and gesturing, but it didn't seem like many of the students were getting it. When he spotted Emily, he let loose a dark grin.

_Oh no_, Emily thought. In that instant she was certain he knew _everything_. How he would have figured it out, she had no clue, but at that point the how didn't matter. It was what he was going to do with the information now that he had it that was important.

And clearly, he had something in mind.

"You don't have to look tough, to be tough," he was telling one girl.

Judging by the roll of her eyes, she wasn't listening.

"Besides," Logan continued speaking, "I'm not teaching you anymore than how to defend yourself today."

Emily was surprised at that, but given she had no idea how the class he was teaching went, she really shouldn't have been.

A boy snorted. "But what's the point of that?" He argued. "You can't win a fight with just defense. We need to know how to attack also."

At this, Emily snorted.

Logan's eyes turned to her as did the rest of the class.

Smirk curling his lips, Logan asked, "Got something to share, Emily?"

She sighed and decided to bite the bullet. "Just that his statement shows just how little an understanding of fighting he has."

An all too familiar voice spoke derisively, "And how would you know? You're just a glorified maid."

Freaking John Allerdyce .

Just like that, in a single instant, Emily no longer cared that Logan may have figured everything out. She no longer just wanted to roll with the punches. Her need to not only survive, but also to thrive reared it's head and she wanted to show John just how wrong he was.

With a fierce look in his direction, she stepped onto the mat. It was to show the feral man just what she was made of as well.

The look in his eyes told Emily that she'd both surprised him and confirmed something that Logan had suspected.

She stood in front of him, posture relaxed. "Shall I only defend myself?" She asked dryly.

He shrugged. "Sure that's all you want to do?"

Her smile was a little bitter. "For now."

He nodded his understanding and, without any further warning, attacked her.

As Emily deflected blow after blow, she marveled at the power with which he moved. He was as rough fighting as he was when he spoke and Emily knew he was holding back. She knew that he let her deflect his blows in such a way as to get him to turn. She knew there was something she was missing even as she pressed her advantage and struck him from behind.

A growl escaped as he hit the floor, despite anticipating it. Though, he really hadn't expected her to get the drop on him that quickly, even while he was holding back.

Once his knees hit the mat, she'd danced away from him. It allowed her to drop her guard a little as he got up with plenty of space to maneuver, but not enough space to knock her down from his floor position.

As Logan rose to his feet, he looked at the young faces that surrounded the pair.

His earlier point had finally gotten across and the young man who had doubted the worth of defense was gaping at Emily.

In fact, most of the students were staring at her. Allerdyce looked downright disturbed.

Emily caught the shocked and almost awed expressions on the kids' faces. "Now, don't go blowing this out of proportion," she warned. "Logan here was holding back. Quite a bit, if I've guessed right," she said, eyeing the burly man.

The grin he sent her was positively wolfish. He faced her while addressing the students. "Tell me, how did Emily get the advantage?"

"You were holding back," John snidely stated.

The girl from earlier timidly raised her hand. Emily pointed at her.

"You got behind him," she said.

Emily smiled and nodded. "Exactly. I got behind him. I used his momentum to get him to turn as I blocked his strikes and then I was able to knock him down. There are other moves I could have down that would have been equally debilitating." She paused, cleared her throat and looked at Logan in askance.

He gave her a 'go ahead' gesture.

"See, I'm not bigger than Logan and I'm definitely not stronger. I may be faster and more flexible, but those are difficult assets to take advantage of when your opponent can keep you from running with a well-aimed punch." She stepped nearer to Logan, laid a hand on the back of his shoulder and tried to ignore how the muscle jumped under her fingers. "So, I got behind him. When you are up against an opponent it isn't all about avoiding blows and keeping away from grabbing fingers. To defend yourself, you have to be able to hit back. In some cases, you even need to be able to take a hit."

An old instructor's voice filtered through her mind. '_Girl, if you want to live you gonna have to get real. A cook ain't afraid of breaking an egg and you can't be afraid of breaking a nose.'_

"But you said it yourself," John piped up. "Logan was holding back."

Emily bit her lip and then shrugged. "Well, yeah. So was I. We weren't exactly trying to kill each other, now were we?"

John looked startled for a moment before his expression settled into a familiar disdain. Seeing that look, Emily was convinced he would be happier stepping in dog doo than being told what to do by her.

Emily really didn't care what he thought of her. She just wanted respect. After all, _she_ wasn't the one forced to live without a television. It was his _friends_ that were.

And Emily was all too familiar with that kind of peer pressure.

"Will you fight for real?" Another boy asked.

Chuckling, Emily shook her head. "First of all, just because we were holding back doesn't mean we weren't fighting for real. Second, I don't think that's a good idea." Her gaze slid to Logan, eyes seeking confirmation.

She found none.

Logan just looked at her before barely lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "Why the hell not?"

He leapt at her.

Emily dove to the side to get out of the way, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that fastened itself to her ankle. She broke her fall with hands that slapped the mat hard. She twisted to place a well-aimed kick on Logan's face. She was still defense mode, but felt ready to switch to attack at a split-second's notice.

The kick landed well, but heavier shock waves that she expected rattled her leg.

Logan released her ankle, but his split lip was already healing before her eyes.

Realization hit her hard, and Emily knew this fight just entered a whole new league. Whether it was instinct or just training or some mix of both, Emily felt the shift in her perceptions as her mind slid into a different type of survival mode. Another memory hit her.

'_You keep yourself alive until back up arrives. You see an advantage, you take it. You see an escape, you take it. Don't you dare let yourself get backed into a corner. You _will_ lose. If you're lucky, the fight is all you'll lose. _

_ Keep evading, keep dodging, and keep moving. Do that and your enemy with spend more energy than you just trying to land a hit._

_ You're fast soldier, but you're a human and a woman to boot. The world is set against you.'_

Piotr watched the fight with growing awe and concern.

Both fighters were totally focused on the other, and the Russian was certain they were holding back _less_ if not at all.

A bruise was already starting to bloom over Emily's cheek from a hit she didn't quite dodge. If not for Logan's healing capabilities, Piotr was certain he'd be sporting several bruises as well.

When the fight moved from the mats, Piotr knew he had to do something. He grabbed his nearly full water bottle, popped the top and squeezed.

Logan was jerked and bounced away from the splatter of icy water in his face. He'd known when they'd stepped off the mat and frankly hadn't cared.

When the water hit Emily and the attack against her stopped, she didn't react the same way as Logan. She jumped back, pivoted on one foot and prepared herself for a second opponent.

Both men stared at her, realizing her head wasn't out of the fight just yet.

"What is going on now?" Exasperation and outrage filled the voice of a newcomer.

Logan nearly groaned. "Nothing, 'Ro. Just teaching the kids about defense."

Ororo approached the trio, ignoring the whispers in the peanut gallery. "Really? And that explains why Emily is here and not attending her duties how?"

On a different day, that tone would have knocked some shame into Emily. As it were, her eyes darted between Logan and Ororo as it finally clicked that the threat had ended. It wasn't gone, but the fight was over. Emily relaxed a little and straightened out of her crouch.

Logan scoffed at the weather witch. "I just asked her for a little help demonstrating." He jerked at thumb over his shoulder at the class.

"I can see that," Storm's eyes caught the mark on Emily's face along with several others on her arms and legs. "Piotr please, will you escort Emily to the infirmary? Dr. Grey and Dr. McCoy should both be there."

The young man nodded before urging Emily to follow him.

With one last wary glance at Logan, Emily did.

Watching as the door shut behind the odd brunette, Logan stepped up to Ororo and spoke before she could. "She gave as good as she got."

As annoyed as she was, Ororo caught the significance of that statement. "So, she's had training."

"Oh yeah," Logan said emphatically. "Military would be my bet. Explains the way she'd been acting. She hides it well too, but slipped up after McCoy showed up."

"Oh?" She looked alarmed. "I just sent her to him. Was that a mistake?"

Logan was already shaking his head. "Nah, 'ro. That ain't what I mean."

"Then explain," she hissed, patience at its end.

"She constantly reeks of fear," he said. "And last night was the worst she's smelt yet."

Ororo ran a hand across the back of her neck as if to rub out some of the tension there. "And what does that mean for McCoy?"

"Hell if I know," Logan returned scornfully. "Ask her that, not me. She knows the cat's out of the bag with her training."

"Is that why you two were fighting?" Ororo snapped before shaking her head and sighing. Ororo knew her first stop after the gym wouldn't be to the infirmary, but to the professor's office.

XMENXMENXMEN

Emily followed Piotr silently, knowing that questions were going to be asked. Making up a life story was not going to fly, not with two ferals to single her out. Or, more accurately, sniff her out.

In this case, she was going to have to tell the truth. Not all of it, but a little should be enough. _A little goes a long way_.

As they walked, well Emily shuffled a little more now that her aching muscles were making themselves known, Piotr turned to her.

"Where did you learn to fight?" He asked.

"In a place where women were in the clear minority," Emily replied. She sighed, realizing she was ruder than she'd intended to be. "I'm ex-military."

Piotr nodded.

When they arrived at the infirmary, Emily was surprised to find Hank there. Belatedly, Ororo's statement that Dr. McCoy should be present clicked. She shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other in the doorway.

Piotr stood to the side and cleared his throat.

Jean and Hank looked up from the paperwork they were going over, surprise registering on their faces.

The surprise shifted to confusion and then alarm as Emily's condition registered.

To break the awkward silence, Emily asked, "Anyone got some ice?"

Hank rushed forward and guided her to bed while Jean jumped up and went to get some ice. "Oh my dear, what happened?"

Emily chuckled and said, "Oh, someone picked a fight."

"One of the students?" He looked up at Piotr. "Have you informed the professor?" He asked, tersely.

Piotr opened his mouth, but Emily beat him to it.

"_Not _one of the students. Logan." She shrugged. "Though I can see how you got the two mixed."

She earned a snort from the Russian behind her for that remark, but the blue man in front of her tensed.

Emily's jaw clenched as she looked up at him, really not wanting to fight yet another feral in such a short period of time.

Hank noticed the still present tension in the woman in front of him and forced himself to relax. Getting angry would only frighten her more. Especially after what she'd just been through.

"Where does it hurt the most?" He asked.

"Are you a medical doctor or a politician?" She asked, frowning at him.

Hank smiled slightly. "Politician, I suppose though that is very recent. However, I am the closest thing to an MD currently at this school."

With a sigh, Emily said, "Alright, fine. I'm mostly bruised, but I think I pulled a couple muscles along my side."

"Right," he said. "Dr. Grey will be here in a moment and can examine your side."

"Sounds good," Emily said.

Piotr told the pair he was going to let Ororo know that Emily made it to the infirmary.

"Thank you," Hank said to him with a nod. He put a little space between him and Emily when Jean reappeared, ice packs in her hands.

Once the woman doctor arrived and Piotr left, Emily reached for the hem of her shirt. Wincing with the movement, she began to pull it off. Practicality won out over modesty after all her experiences with the military.

Startled, Hank spun around so that he wasn't facing her and couldn't see her out of the corner of his eye.

Jean stepped forward to help Emily pull the fabric over her head and hissed in sympathy. "You've got a few nasty bruises already developing. What happened? Who did this?"

"Logan's teaching self defense," Emily informed her. "I guess he needed to prove his point to some of the kids."

Jean was aghast. "What?"

Hank's hands clenched into fists.

Jena continued, sputtering, "But you don't have any training! Why would he - ?"

"Listen," Emily cut her off, "can we do the question game later? I know the professor is going to want to speak with me, anyways. I think I pulled a couple muscles and would dearly love an aspirin and some ice." She waited a beat and added, "Please."

Startled, Jean was spurned into action by Hank passing a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers behind him. The woman vaguely noticed that Hank had yet to turn back around. She handed two of the pills to Emily and then passed her the water bottle Hank next held out behind him.

"Alright, let's see what we can do for you and then get your shirt back on so that Hank can look you in the eyes again," Jean told her.

Emily giggled, but couldn't hold back for long and started laughing. With a sharp hiss, she reached one hand up to her side. "Oh, don't make me laugh," she groaned through the giggles.

"Sorry," Jean said, not meaning it as she herself giggled.

Hank was intensely grateful for his complexion and the fur on his face. This way, neither of the women could see how much he was blushing. So much for being a professional.

Eventually Hank was forced to turn back around when Jean needed his help wrapping an ice pack into position on Emily's body. Emily noticed and tried to continue not caring. His hesitation made her very self conscious. She was all too aware of the fact that she had so little fat on her body. At least she had more than she had when she'd first arrived, but those months on the streets still showed. Her figure was very athletic, stretches and minimal exercises she'd been able to do in the privacy of her room keeping her that way.

She chuckled and at the odd looks she received, she admitted, "That was the best fight I've had in a long while."

"Oh?" Jean gently prompted.

"Yeah," Emily said. "Living on the streets, I'd fought some, but never against anyone with real training."

Hank was once again surprised. "Living on the streets?"

Emily didn't reply.

"So, you do have training?" Jean asked curiously when it became obvious the brunette wasn't going to speak without prompting.

Emily shrugged. "Yeah, I'm ex-military."

Interested, Hank asked, "What branch?"

She shook her head. "Not time for the question game yet," she said tersely. "Can I have something to cover up with?" Emily asked Jean, now that the pair of doctors were finished binding the ice packs to her.

"Certainly," Jean said.

Just as she got a thin blanket around her, the door to the infirmary opened again. This time, both the professor and Ororo had arrived.

Emily smirked. "Now it's time for the question game." She knew she'd put it off long enough.

* * *

A/N: Big chapter next chapter. Anyone got any ideas for what route I'm going to go? I know I've already confused the heck out of a few people. I'll try not to be too pleased by that (hehehe). Next chapter shouldn't take as long to be written, as long as I use my free time on my upcoming field trip wisely. Then again, I'll be in Nicaragua studying volcanoes... I make no guarantees.

Many thanks to **koryandrs, Marmalade1512, Crystalskies14, Amodestpoet, **and **cherylnixon** for reviewing. Thank you so much!

And thank you to those who are following this story. You all are great too!

-Spirit


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